Strike a Match
by 2NYwLove
Summary: Callahan & Casey grew up together, best friends until things changed & Cal left for NY. Now she's back after a case gone wrong & a detective with CPD, but Casey wonders if not all of her came home. How was he to know that one of the men of 51 might be the only thing to make her live again? Clarke/OC
1. Out of the Frying Pan

**Chapter 1 Out of the Frying Pan...**

* * *

"Callahan, you're up. Crispy critter down on Marshfield, think you can handle that?" Sergeant Belden gave his recent transfer detective a look that said he was pretty sure she couldn't. CPD didn't even normally do lateral transfers, but somebody had called in a favor and now here he was stuck with this co-ed looking blondie. It was bad enough he had already lost Dawson to Voight, without even mentioning that snake of a cop should be behind bars, not carrying a badge.

Detective Cailin Callahan resist the urge to roll her eyes at her new boss, having already clashed with him more than once in the month she had been here. She hadn't realized how good she had it back in New York, but that had been before everything went sideways. "I'll be fine, sir," she replied, clenching her jaw to avoid saying anything she would later regret. She was pretty sure she was already on thin ice and she didn't want to get booted back to patrol after nine years on the force with the NYPD, over half of that with a gold shield and working much larger operations than anything she had been handed so far. At least he wasn't making her take anyone with her this time, part of the reason she had agreed to work in this unit was they were short-staffed enough that she wouldn't get a partner and that was fine by her, considering…

Cailin pulled up to the scene, a truck still there with plenty of guys still milling about, though most had stripped off their bunker jackets. The battalion was already gone and a couple of uniforms were already stringing yellow tape around the burned out car in the middle of the abandoned lot. She went to duck under the tape when one of them put a meaty paw out to stop her. "Jesus Christ, you media people are like vultures, do anything for a scoop, huh? Behind the tape, toots."

Cailin narrowed her eyes, practically hissing as she read his name plate. "Excuse me Officer Martin," she shot back, pulling back her jacket to reveal her shield, "but that's Detective Toots to you." She ducked under the tape and strode to the car, fighting back the urge to empty her lunch in the weeds at the acrid smell of burnt flesh and accelerate. "Damn," she said, peering into the car and seeing what little remained of both the body and the vehicle.

"I know, not a chance in hell of getting any evidence," came a voice from the other side of the car.

She jumped back, startled, before realizing she recognized the voice as one of the few detectives that had actually been welcoming in the precinct, even if he worked upstairs in the super secret intelligence unit with the Lieutenant that practically had 'bad cop' tattooed on his forehead. "Detective Dawson, I didn't know this was Intel's case."

She wondered for a brief moment if Belden had sent someone to check up on her when he replied, "Antonio, you can call me Antonio, really. And it isn't, officially, but Voight wanted me to check things out, plates came back to a known associate of someone we're tracking."

She just nodded, not wanting to square off with one of the few people she thought might actually end up being an ally in the CPD. Instead she pulled on the gloves she had brought from the car and leaned in closer to the body, her focus narrowing in on the corpse. She reached out to shift the body, forcing herself to not visibly shudder when the melted flesh stuck to her glove, there was something about the odd angle of the head that called to her. Yep, right there in the back of the skull. "Looks like a .22, entrance, not seeing an exit," she looked up through the windshield that had shattered in the heat, "I'm betting this was a dump. Know who called it in?"

Antonio watched her, taking note of her methodical approach, relieved that she didn't wince at getting her hands dirty. He had an old boxing buddy in the NYPD, had heard good things about the detective, though her reasons for leaving town were a bit fuzzy. All he had gotten was that an op had gone bad and she had been on leave for a while. "I don't know, Voight just heard Belden getting the case and told me to book it down here. Check with Truck 51, they were first on scene, put the fire out."

Cailin merely raised her eyebrows at him, pulling off the gloves so they turned inside out and sticking them in her pocket at she pulled out her memo book and made her way over to the firemen still hanging around. It was then she caught sight of him; a familiar profile, though the blonde hair was shorter now, his frame more filled out, and he somehow seemed taller, though nearly everyone seemed taller than her 5'5" stature. She hadn't called him since she had been back in town, despite her mother telling her all about his murdered fiancée, about his mother getting out of jail, about how she still saw his sister at the market from time to time. She just couldn't bring herself to do it, not knowing what to say, even if she knew what he was going through. Probably exactly because she knew what he was going through, how words were nothing more than empty sentiments meant to make the speaker feel better, not the recipient.

He was still wearing his gear, his name and rank spelled out clearly on the back. The words looked so foreign on someone she had known since they were still in diapers. She took a deep breath, it was inevitable she would run into him, and she may as well just face the music. Who knew, maybe their friendship wasn't totally dead after all these years. "So what, you think just because you are some fancy CFD Lieutenant now you can just come in and wash away all my evidence, Matty-boy?"

It was only upon hearing the old nickname that he stopped packing up the truck. He paused before turning, feeling like he had just been visited by a ghost from his past. He had heard she was back in town, from his sister who very much still kept in touch with the crazy Callahan clan. He wasn't surprised, their house had been a place of refuge for both Casey siblings growing up, more so for Matt since he and Cailin had been placed next to each other since pre-school because of their last names. He also knew, or at least partly knew why she had come back home to Chicago. Which is why he hadn't reached out to her, the pain of losing Hallie still too fresh, he didn't want to see the same anguish and grief he saw in the mirror every morning in one of his oldest friend's eyes. Not to mention they had gradually lost touch in the nearly thirteen years she had been gone. He turned slowly, forcing a smile to his face even as he barked, "are you trying to tell me how to do my job, Detective?" If his words didn't draw the attention of the rest of his men, his attempt to draw Cailin into a hug, which she practically jumped away from, did.

"Er, nice to see you, Matt," she replied, kicking herself for her reaction and awkwardly extending her hand, pretty sure they had never shaken hands except to seal a bet.

He just looked down at it and raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes boring into hers as he scratched at the back of his neck. "Yeah, Christy said you were back in town, sorry I haven't called."

She gave him a half-smile and a shrug, "it's fine, wasn't expecting a welcome home party and I know you've dealt with…" she trailed off, a lump forming in her throat, "a lot of stuff," she finished, pulling out her memo book. "So what can you tell me about the shake and bake in the Caprice?"

Matt shook his head, "not too much. Squad actually got here first, we were still wrapping up another call." His stopped as his radii squawked to life, "like this one." He gave her a hollow smile, "sorry, Cal, we gotta head out. But come by the station later and we'll fill you in best we can. You know where it is, right, 51?" Cailin nodded, watching as the men buzzed back into action around her. She knew perfectly well where Matt Casey's firehouse was, what she didn't tell him was that her mother had followed his entire career as though he were still one of the Callahan kids. Of course to Mary Margaret Callahan, he still was. The truck paused briefly as Matt leaned out the window to say, "welcome home, Callahan." She raised her hand up in a slight wave, wishing she felt the same way.

* * *

She trudged back to the car, the ME's office having shown up to remove the body. Antonio was pacing around the car, waiting on the crime scene techs. Cailin did the same, taking in the scorched body of the ghetto sled. Typical for the neighborhood, except for having been set on fire, big tires, dancing spinning rims, accessories worth more than the car, a speaker system normally found in clubs…and… "What the hell?" she exclaimed, sliding into the passenger seat much to the chagrin of the techs trying to keep the remains intact. The smell in the car was overwhelming, immediately permeating her clothing and hair, but she was singularly focused on what she has observed, the rest of the world falling away as she took in what remained of the melted dash. Antonio observed her, trying to see what she had seen. "Dawson, you still carry a memo book or do you not right things down up in IU?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Still carry one," he replied, knowing the reputation his unit had already garnered, imagining the extremely jealous Belden had painted an even worse picture. He smiled, pulling it out, "just don't use it much."

"Perfect," she replied, not smiling back and reaching for it. He handed it to her, looking curious, watching as she jammed it into the stereo on the dash, her tongue poking out as she jiggled it around until a click was heard and a melted hunk of plastic dropped partly open revealing a secret compartment. "Nice work," he said, thinking maybe he should talk to Voight about her, except he had heard a couple of rumors about excessive force complaints in her NYPD jacket and he wasn't sure he wanted to spend his time worrying about multiple hotheads.

She gave a half-shrug, explaining, "didn't figure the roast had dropped that much cash on 10,000 watt subwoofers to still have an eight track, figured if he was on your radar, he was probably running something and this was probably hiding something." Antonio just kept looking at her, his gaze piercing and unsettling. Cailin felt suddenly self-conscious, wondering what he was thinking about her, wondering if she had misstepped. She probably looked like a freaking know-it-all to him, the last thing she wanted one of the rising stars of the most elite unit in the CPD to be thinking about her. "One of my older brothers is a mechanic, gets a lot of cars from LE auctions, he's found all kinds of things," she explained.

"Don't sell yourself short, kid," he said, nodding with approval.

It was a simple enough nickname. One you would think she would be used to hearing by now, given she looked several years younger than her actually age, which was part of how she had moved up the ranks in New York so fast, being pulled into the anti-crime plain clothes unit shortly after getting off probationary status after the academy. Her girl-next door appearance able to overhear plenty without anyone ever suspecting there was a badge around her neck, particularly useful when anti-terrorism was a hot button issue in the city that never slept. But it was what he had called her, from the moment she first stepped foot up in OCCB looking more like head cheerleader than a tough as nails new detective trying to prove herself in the boy's club. Doyle knew it drove her crazy, most of the time he just did it to exasperate her, enjoying the flush it brought to her cheeks and the fire to her eyes.

Which is the exact opposite of what Antonio observed. He watched as the detective transformed before him. Her bashfulness replaced by a stone faced mask, the light going out in her eyes, her complexion going ghastly pale and she clutched what remained of the door handle, clawing in near desperation to get out of the car. He opened the door for her, attempting to grab her elbow to prevent her from tumbling out of the raised car; surprised at the amount of force in which she threw his arm off as she mumbled something about getting something from her car. Antonio was pretty sure whatever he had heard about Detective Callahan was just the tip of the iceberg.

* * *

"Get it together, Callahan, work is the one thing you can still do, remember?" she said to her reflection in the rearview mirror of her department issued sedan, waiting for Antonio to drive off, which he thankfully did fairly quickly. She waited for the ME's office to finish up and for the CSU tech's to bag what remained of the drugs in the hidden compartment and get the car up on the tow truck, trying to act like a competent human being as she crumbled inside. She pulled up what she could on the computer about the registered owner of the car, whom she assumed was also the crispy critter and wasn't shocked to find a rap sheet nearly as tall as she was. While she had plenty of issues, she did not have a death wish, so she thought better of going to question any of Carter Jefferson's known associated without backup. Leaving her with going back to the station and get lectured about how women couldn't do the job by her jackass boss or heading down to 51 to see if she could get any information that might be useful. She debated which was the lesser of the two evils, finally deciding that the firehouse would probably have better coffee and after yet another night spent tossing and turning, she desperately needed a booster shot.

Cailin pulled her car up to the curb by the station; far enough way from the bays, knowing the rigs might have to exit at any point. She exited the car, pushing her sunglasses on her head and pulling on her blazer, adjusting her badge so it was easily visible. She try to make it clear this was an official visit on first sight, but that didn't stop the Latino guy checking hoses from nudging the moustached unruly mop of hair as she stepped into the station. "Lieutenant Casey?" she said, setting her jaw and squaring her shoulders.

Both men gaped at her until another firefighter stepped out from beside the squad truck and gave them a look. "He's in his quarters, can I help you?"

He smiled at her, revealing dimples and a slight gap in his teeth that Cailin was sure most women would be drooling over, not to mention he was clearly in top physical condition; but to her he was just another bag of testosterone trying to put another notch in his bedpost. "Maybe, you the squad commander, first on the scene of the car fire down on Marshfield?" she hooked her thumb in her belt loop, seeing as his eyes followed her movement, settling on her gold shield.

"I am, Lieutenant Kelly Severide, rescue squad 3. Car was already fully engulfed when we got there, didn't even know a body was inside until we tamped it down. Called CPD as soon as we did. Don't think I can be more helpful than that, Detective?" His voiced raised on the end, waiting for her to fill in her name.

Cailin stared back at him, knowing he was was practically undressing her with his eyes, but refused to encourage him. "Quarters back there?" she said, stepping around him before he could even react and striding into the depths of the house.

"Hey, you can't go back there," he called after her, three long strides catching up to her and clamping a large palm on her shoulder.

She spun, hands on her hips, "I'm not some badge bunny civilian, Lieutenant. I have been going in and out of the firehouses of this city since the day I came home from the hospital, not to mention Matt told me to come by, but if you still feel I need an escort, please lead the way!"

Kelly Severide was rarely at a loss for words around women, but they usually weren't trying to take his head off, at least not until he failed to call them or discovered they weren't the only ones on his speed dial. "Right this way, detective," he finally replied, glaring at Cruz and Otis who were snickering behind them. He led her to what appeared to be a briefing room, pointing at a chair, "wait here," he commanded, giving her a warning look.

Cailin took a deep breath and complied, knowing better than to push back at the son of Benny Severide, or risk the dress down from her father the next time he was lucid enough to remember who he was. "Fine," she said, dropping down in the chair, "won't move a muscle."

Kelly made his way to Matt's quarters, shaking his head, knocking on the glass door before entering. "Hey, Casey, there's some piece of work here from CPD, says you invited her, was asking about the car fire in between acting like she owned the place."

Matt rose, looking at him with a slight look of shock, "she actually showed up? Huh."

"You want to fill me in? You have some secret cop on the side?"

He snorted in reply, "not in this lifetime, Severide. Come on, let's see if we can help her."

Kelly looked disinterested, knowing he wasn't likely to benefit from any further conversation with the standoffish cop, not that he was in the position to as it was. But he was curious to figure out what the connection to Casey was, so he followed behind.

Matt entered the room where Cailin was still sitting at the table, flipping through her memo book, absently doodling on the back of the page like she had since grad school. "Cally, heard you met what I have to put up with every day. Kelly, this is Cailin Callahan, excuse me, Detective Callahan. We grew up together, her pops is part of the reason I joined FD." Matt gave Kelly a look of warning and he ran through the old line roster of the CFD.

"Your pop's Deputy Comish Connie Callahan?" Cailin just nodded, not giving anymore information, even as Kelly pressed on, "so your brother is up at HQ in arson investigations?"

She nodded again, not pleased with Matt name dropping, but knowing it was inevitable. She rose so the two men weren't completely towering over her. "One of them, plus Colin over on Truck 19 and Coleman who sometimes uses this lug as a subcontractor," she hitched a thumb toward Matt.

"Three older brothers and a FD Deputy Commissioner father, bet your dates always got you home on time," Kelly joked.

Matt and Cailin exchanged a look. She had mostly been a tomboy growing up, her interest more in being one of than dating the boys and she didn't divulge that she was dating Matt's best friend until she was hightailing it out-of-town for college. "Five older brothers, actually. Cullen's a priest for now and Cam's a mechanic. And I actually got a lot of leeway growing up, I was somewhat of a surprise and my parents had no clue what to do with a girl. Hell my name actually means 'girl', that's how over having kids they were." She rolled her eyes, "now if we're done with the Callahan family tree, I would really like to get some sort of lead in this case before my jerk of a boss kicks me back to uniform patrol."

"Belden," Matt said to Kelly, who made a face.

Apparently the head of the 21st VCU was an equal opportunity asshole. Cailin glowered at him, "how do you know who my boss is, Casey?"

"I, uh, you see…" Matt stuttered, "Antonio sort of swung by on his way back to the precinct. His sister is one of our 'medics."

"Of course she is, freaking Chicago," she said with a sigh, wondering if her case had been scooped.

"He's done a lot for us," Matt said, almost with a warning tone, but Cailin could tell from the way his features softened that at least a part of that lot must have to do with Hallie's murder. She really needed to listen better when her mother was chattering on, between the wives grapevine and her father constantly listening to the scanners, they could probably do her job better than she could most days. Cailin cleared her throat, reaching for her memo book and getting back to business, "look, that neighborhood was full of bangers and crappy when I left in 2000, I'm betting it hasn't gotten any better, but if there is anything you guys know from working scenes that could give me a leg up, I would really appreciate it."

* * *

___A/N And so it begins, a lot of background, I know. Set between Seasons 1 & 2. For those Clarke fans, he'll show up soon, promise. In my usual vein of mostly cannon except when I need things to go AU. Yes, you may recognize things. If it is from NBC, I own nothing if it is from my CSI:NY OC creations, I like to recycle. Reviews welcome, including helpful suggestions, trolls will not be fed._


	2. Into the Fire

**Chapter 2: Into the Fire**

* * *

Casey and Severide gave Cailin a few pieces of information based on their work in the neighborhood to go on. It was enough for her to piece together that the vic in the car had more than a few enemies, most of them self-employed in businesses not recognized by the IRS or the legal system. That, combined with what she was able to get off the street, was also enough for her to realize the case probably did deserve being kicked upstairs to the intelligence unit despite the ass kicking she got when Belden found out she had willingly passed it off.

"I don't know how they did it up in the big city, Callahan, but here in Chicagoland, we like to actually solve our own cases and not pass them off to the glory seeking schmucks in bed with the Brass!" he roared in front of her desk. She just looked up at him, barely blinking, definitely not flinching, acting more like she was looking through him instead of at him; even as he turned purple and his angry spittle hit her face. "I don't care who your uncle or father or second grade teacher was, sweet cheeks! If you want to keep a gold shield clipped over that tight ass of yours, you better start solving some god damned cases or I'll have you out in a patrol car with a boot as your supervisor so fast, you'll forget you ever wore anything other than a uniform in any city!"

"Sergeant!" the chief of the precinct roared behind Cailin's desk, "my office, now!"

Belden returned looking no less angry, but was a lot less vocal about it. Cailin was slightly concerned the man would chip a tooth given how tightly he was clenching his jaw as he dropped a stack of files on her desk. "Cold Cases, a couple actually might have a hope of a lead. You got two months to make my numbers look good or you're back polishing brass. Assuming you aren't already," he leered at her, making it clear he hadn't enjoyed his trip to the principal's office and blamed her for it.

Cailin growled low in her throat, cutting off only because she didn't want her file dinged anymore than it already was. "Yes, sir," she said, meeting his stare head on, refusing to look away first.

* * *

"Have you eaten, dear? I left some dinner in the oven," Mary Margaret said as soon as Cailin shut the side door behind her.

Cailin closed her eyes for a long beat, she had hoped it would be late enough her mother would have already been in bed. She knew she it was wrong getting annoyed at her mother's smothering, it was how she showed she cared. The woman was all about tending to others, had done it her entire life. First in her convent school, then with her husband and children; now with her plethora of grandchildren and on bad days, her husband again. Cailin hadn't wanted to be another burden to her mother, just like she had tried her best to not be one growing up, knowing full well her mother hadn't planned on anymore children. In fact the woman didn't think she could have any more after Cam's nightmarish labor and delivery.

It was part of the reason Cailin went halfway across the country to go to college and fought so hard to keep her full-ride, not wanting to feel like the nuisance she secretly always assumed she was. Her brothers hadn't helped that belief, loudly complaining about her being under foot and tagging along, making it clear how displeased they were that she had gotten her own room and fewer hand me downs. Not that she ever wanted to wear the frilly dresses and pastel colors that hung in her closet. Between wanting to prove that she wasn't a bother and trying to escape the crazy escapades of the chaotic Callahan clan, she had been fine hiding out in relative anonymity of New York until…

She shook her head, sitting down next to her mother at the worn kitchen table after pulling a glass down form the cabinet. She reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table, pouring far more than the thimble-full of a 'sleeping aid' her mother had.

"Cailin Marie," her mother warned, looking up from her mending with the disapproving look all the Callahan children knew well.

"I ate earlier, I promise," she said, reaching for the basket of laundry next to the table, realizing it was mostly hers. "Ma, I can do my own laundry, you taught me how to when I was seven, remember?" she said, forcing herself to sound grateful instead of annoyed.

Mary paused her hemming, patting her only daughter's hand. "I know dear, but you are so busy with your job," she said, before adding, "though I suppose if you had become a lawyer like you were supposed to, you could be sending all of our laundry out to be done."

There it was, Cailin thought, glancing at the clock. A whole five minutes, that might even be a new record, at least since her less than triumphant return a little over a month ago. She had gone off to school under the auspices of eventually getting a law degree. This had made her father's chest puff up in pride as he told every firefighter and cop in the city all about his smart little kitten and how they all better keep their noses clean once she graduated and came back home. Her mother had been less than thrilled, not so secretly hoping that she would settle down with 'poor dear Matthew Casey' and be the 2.0 version of her parents. She had disappointed them both, equally, at least. The competitive pressures of her honor's college combining with a bad breakup the night before her law school interview caused her to post two-hours late for the interview and smelling like the bar she had been in until near dawn. Her LSAT scores hadn't been good enough to override her flame out (probably because she had been a bar the night before she took them as well). After a phone call to her oldest friend who told her to stop giving a crap about what her parents wanted and live her life for herself, a life lesson he learned the hard way when they were fifteen, she ended up marching over to 1PP (after a cold shower, and greasy breakfast), joining the next NYPD academy.

"Ma!" she chastised, her tone angrier than she intended.

Her mother looked startled, still not used to this version her formerly cheery daughter, unsure if who it was that had returned home from New York. It felt like a stranger was sitting next to her at the kitchen table; not so different from her struggles with her occasional stranger husband, but at least she had Alzheimer's to blame with him.

She studied her daughter as she silently folded clothes, inwardly wincing every time Cailin paused for a large swallow of whiskey. Cailin's hair was the same golden wheat hers had been before it had turned mostly grey, her daughter's eyes the same shade of cornflower blue, somehow seeming far wiser than her own despite not being lined with the wrinkles age had deposited. The rest of her features: strong jaw, cupid's bow mouth, high cheekbones were pure Callahan; each of her children had inherited them. Though Cailin was cursed with the Sullivan family's lack of height. Mary Margaret used to say it was a trade-off for their unrelenting optimism, but that trait had clearly left her daughter; the few smiles she managed never met her eyes, her shoulders permanently lowered bearing an unseen weight. She worried for her youngest child, hearing her pace the floors late at night after crying out in her sleep, knowing the bottles on the bar had been replaced more in the weeks she had been back than they had in years. But she also knew better than to ask too many questions or express too much concern; the result of that being fully shut out of her daughter's heart and mind. Both her husband and eldest had similar walls they had put up after coming back from defending their country, refusing to talk about what they had seen or done. She held tight to the fact that they both had eventually returned to their former selves, though Connie Sr. was slipping more and more back into the shell of a Vietnam vet she had met back in 1969. Also, if she was being honest, between taking care of him and her grandchildren and volunteering with the church, she was too tired to put further efforts into her daughter; especially since Cailin had made it clear she was unwilling to speak of anything that happened in what she was now referring to as her 'former life'.

Mary sighed, tying a knot in her thread and placing the needle back in the sewing basket. "I ran into little Christy Casey at the market today," she said, studying her repair job and purposefully avoiding looking at her daughter, "though I suppose she is neither little or a Casey anymore. She had her two little ones with her; precious and full of energy those two, look just like her."

Cailin made a noise and poured another slug of whiskey even though she knew it didn't mix well with the stupid pills the doctor told her to take to sleep. "Thanks to Christ, I saw the wedding photograph you have of her, her husband ain't exactly a looker."

"Yes, but she did make a beautiful bride, didn't she?" Mary said pointedly, wishing she hadn't made the remark as soon as she saw her daughter's eyes flash with rage. "Well, she did. Anyway, she said Matty had been over for dinner, isn't it nice they still get together? She said Matt mentioned he had run into you at a scene. Are you two talking again dear? I hope so, you were always thick as thieves growing up. It might be good for you two to lean on each other, since…you know…" she trailed off, not wanting to say anything more, not knowing if her daughter was going to flee to her room or explode in fury.

Cailin did neither. Frankly, she was tired of being either a zombie or full of white-hot rage and beyond exhausted of everyone walking on eggshells around her. Plus, not that she would ever admit it, her mother did have a point; she and Matt had been inseparable for most of their childhood and had weathered more than their share of ups and downs. He was also in the unique position of knowing at least a little of what she was going though, sort of. She drained her glass, letting out a weary sigh and pushing her hair behind her ears and shoulders until she noticed her mother's eyes getting damp as they took in the scar on her neck. "It's late, Ma, why don't you head up to bed, I'll finish up down here," she said, wanting nothing more than than the solace of the dark silence.

Mary nodded, taking what she could get from her youngest. She rose and kissed her daughter on the top of her head, trying to not take it personally when Cailin stiffened and ducked out-of-the-way.

* * *

Cold cases were actually a surprisingly good fit for Cailin. She didn't have to interact with too many other people in the precinct, any family members that could be found were generally pleasantly surprised that anyone still cared about their loved one's death and her stubbornness was a virtue when dealing with cases other detectives had punted on. The only downside was the hours, which most cops would savor, seeing as they actually lent themselves to free time during hours normal human beings were also awake.

Tired of trying to keep up appearances around her many family members who all seemed far too intent upon getting her back into the fold; Cailin found herself stopping by 51 on more than one occasion, taking Matt up on his repeated invitations.

She wasn't sure what he had said to the other guys in the house, or if their Chief had mentioned he had known her father back in the day, but the guys refreshingly all kept up a hands off policy. This was a welcome respite from the pawing treatment she received the few times she tried to go out with former female civilian classmates.

Part of her lack of reluctance in getting to know 'Matt's people' was helped by the fact that three of them had just opened up a bar together, one that reminded her a little (but not too much) of her old neighborhood haunt in New York and was usually practically empty. It was also nice to have Shay and Gabby to talk to since they also understood what it was like to work in the middle of a sausage fest. And since Gabby's brother was Antonio Dawson, she figured it didn't hurt to make the effort of that connection. Even if she still was curious about what was the history between the pretty brunette EMT and her lifelong friend.

But that was all a mere blip in everything Matt was dealing with having taken on care of two children of one of the guys that had died from his truck after his widow ended up in jail on a drunk driving charge. She had tried to get information for Matt but Belden had ensured she was iced out of most information not related to her cold cases. At least she could give Connie a call to have him help Kelly out with the arsonist that was seemingly targeting him.

Growing up with her brothers' many antics, the myriad of situations the crew of 51 seemed to find themselves in on a near daily basis were oddly familiar to her and provided a much-needed distraction. For the most part, she was able to sit back and observe; able stay on the periphery without too much trouble, and help out as she could. Stopping by got her out and got her mother off her back, in addition to allowing her to at least partly reconnect with Matt. At least as much as he would allow, as he still seemed hurt from her disengaging from their friendship over the years and as much as she allowed herself, preferring to keep behind the safety of her armor.

She had carefully constructed her armor over the past year to be practically impenetrable, the docs called it a coping mechanism; as they did the nightmares and walking around like a zombie and feeling pretty much separated from the world. It suited her fine, to hide behind this armor, it helped when she wanted nothing more than to escape from her own skin. Overall, it was working pretty well.

* * *

Except for the day after the insomnia had kept her awake for the third night in a row, which she supposed was better than the nightmares. The same day Belden had chewed her out in the middle of the precinct for everyone to overhear despite her doing more in two months on cold cases than his other detectives had in the past two years. As if that wasn't enough, she had interrupted an old witness she had gone to re-interview in the middle of his afternoon crack smoking break and he had pulled a paranoid runner straight into a steaming pile of trash. The putrid scent permeating both them and the sedan issued to her, resulting in her having to pony up to have the damn thing detailed. Something she didn't have the extra cash for if she ever wanted to move out of her own room and into her own place. Which she desperately wanted, a point made even more clear to her when she ran into her youngest brother as she dragged herself home for a hot shower after booking her runner.

"Damn, Cal, you look and smell awful," Cam said, hunting through his father's toolbox for the wrench he needed to finish fixing the washing machine.

Cailin growled at him, "thanks a lot bro. Here's to hoping I actually have some clean clothes to change into since you just now showed up to fix the washer after how long of Ma begging you to?"

"I have a job, Cal and a life, plus there's a laundromat down the block!" He shut up when Cailin picked an errant piece of what she hoped was spaghetti off her leg and threw it at him.

Her mood did not improve in the shower, when she realized she was out of shampoo and was forced to improvise with a bar of soap. After throwing on her last clean shirt, a tank that was far more revealing than she would normally wear with a pair of jeans that weren't standing on their own yet, and blasting her hair dry, she realized the unending summer's humidity did not help her sort of clean hair in the least.

She groaned, catching sight of her alarm clock and knowing she was already running behind schedule on getting the three pans of food her mother had prepared for 51 there in time for dinner. She reached for the baseball cap hanging from her dresser mirror, a lump forming in her throat as her fingers brushed the tattered rim. She pulled it down, dropping to her old twin bed, running her finger over the embroidery, memories flooding over her, exacerbated by the scent that still remained. She held the cap to her face, inhaling before forcing herself to shut it down, to turn off any feelings that threatened to bubble to the surface. It was all her fault that she was alive and he wasn't and she wasn't about to let herself go traipsing down memory lane. She hid the cap under her pillow and ran down the stairs to find another one in the hall closet.

"Kitten, is that you?" she heard her father call from his den.

Cailin froze in front of the closet, slowly drawing one of brother's old caps out and tightening the band before placing it on her own head, pulling her ponytail through the back. It was just a nickname, one her father had called her since birth. Saying she had mewed more like a kitten than she cried, as if even back then she didn't want to be any trouble. How was her father to know that was what Nansenko had called her when he had...

"Cailin," she heard her father call out again, slightly confused and worried this time.

She rushed into the den, taking in his pajama pants and mis-buttoned dress shirt with a shake of her head. She knew her father was slipping further and further into dementia, far more than perhaps a seventy year old man in otherwise relative good health should be. She also knew that her family, her mother especially, had been in such denial about the great Connor Callahan having anything wrong with him that they failed to intervene when it could have helped. She blamed herself, she hadn't come home for but a couple of three-day visits since leaving for New York and most of that time spent eating and catching up with her brothers, their families and the extended clan.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked, wrinkling his brow as he studied her.

"Yeah, Pops, have to drop off some food Ma made for Matt Casey and his crew," she moved around him, turning on a lamp in the darkened den and turning the channel on the television, as it was blaring Telemundo and she knew her father didn't speak a word of Spanish.

"Good, good, make sure you're back before curfew," he said, squeezing at her hand as she passed by. Cailin almost made a flippant comment at him about being a grown ass woman, but then she realized her father was lost, sundowning, thinking she was still a teenager and confusing Matt's truck crew for a sports team.

"I will, Pops," she said, squeezing his hand back and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, "Cam's fixing something and Ma should be home soon." She left, juggling the three foil pans and a heavy heart.

* * *

_**So hints of Season 2, though I am not putting a hard and fast timeline on anything, since we know TV time is not the same as real life time! Promise Clarke shows up in the next chapter; no really, I've already written it. :) Thanks to those that have taken the time to read, review and welcome me to writing in this fandom! **_


	3. Point of Origin

**Chapter Three: Original Fire** _**A s**_**_uper HUGE thank you to everyone that has reviewed, followed, or favorited this; y'all know how to make a girl feel welcome! And Clarke makes an appearance as promised! ;)_**

* * *

She pulled up to the station, hoping Mills hadn't given up on her; she could only imagine the last thing he wanted to do was cook after watching his family's diner go up in flames. She exited the truck her brother had lent her since returning to the city, though she rarely used it.

Pouch, the station mutt, came running up to greet her first, smelling the corned beef as soon as she stepped closer to the station. She worked to not trip over the dog while trying to not drop anything. Matt came from beside the truck where he was writing something on a clipboard, greeting her with a smile, though he looked slightly haggard and nudged the dog away.

"How many houses did Mother Callahan think she was cooking for?" he said, gesturing to take the trays from her. "Cally?" he said, taking in her near frozen posture, except for the slight tremble in her jaw.

She barely had noticed him at first; sitting at the squad table out front, working on a crossword. But as soon as she did, the world seemed to shift on its axis. It wasn't because he was an unfamiliar face, there were always relief guys coming and going, shifts getting switched all the time. No, it was because there was something eerily familiar about him. At first she thought it may have been his close-cropped haircut, or his impeccably pressed uniform or the way he squared his shoulders. Everything about him screamed military; however so did plenty of guys both in the FD and PD, she came across them every single day. None of them had left her feeling trapped, rooted to the floor and like her legs would give out at any second.

She suddenly realized what had sparked her reaction; he was rolling a challenge coin across his knuckles, back and forth quickly, but with relaxed ease and precision. She watched, entranced with the motion, time and place slipping away and taking her back to one of the first times she had been on a stake out with Doyle. That was his tell. Whenever he was stressed or anxious or bored, he pulled out that challenge coin like a security blanket, working it over his knuckles in the same way. She realized she was staring only after the stranger's eyes settled on hers before looking her up and down. He wasn't leering, as many of the guys around here had done when they thought she wasn't looking, he was more looking at her as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. They rested again, though this time the azure orbs seemed to have zeroed in on the scar running from behind her ear to the hollow of her throat. Over a year later and it hadn't faded, her delicate skin forever marred and her last clean shirt clearly revealing her badge of shame.

"Earth to Callahan," Matt said, wondering where his friend had just gone, but a little afraid to ask given her current trembling.

She shook her head, handing off the trays to his outstretched hands, "sorry about that, just had an idea about a case," she said, hoping to have played things off. "Did you get another candidate?" she said, hoping to sound casual, as they headed in towards the kitchen.

"Oh, Clarke, nah, he's a transfer from a closed house, along with another guy, Spellman. Colin's house isn't up on the block right? I hope he isn't having to deal with that witch McLeod." Cailin shook her head, still feeling shaky, overwhelmed with memories and actually feeling far more than she had in over a year and not sure how to process any of it.

Jeff Clarke watched as the pair walked toward the kitchen, something familiar in the way the woman held herself, moving away from Casey even as he held the door for her. Just as there was something familiar in the thousand yard stare she had gotten on her face as she entered the house, obviously triggered back to something unpleasant or at the very least something she was trying to keep buried. He had seen that look on plenty of his men in Iraq, had seen it on his own face as well. That look of the walking dead, trying to keep your head above the water that always threatened to pull you under. It was then he realized he was still moving the coin over his knuckles, the coin she had first focused on before the light went out in her eyes. She didn't seem military though, but she had obviously been to war, still seemed to be there in some respects. He took a deep intake of breath, rising from the table and placing the coin back in his pocket before deciding to see if he could assist with dinner.

* * *

Peter Mills didn't want to relinquish his control of the kitchen, even if he was happy to not cook. He brushed Cailin aside as soon as she gave him the reheating instructions, telling her to sit down and grab an orange juice, considering she was shaking like a leaf. She complied, working to convince Matt she was fine and relieved when he got a phone call. She was leaning against the table drinking the prescribed juice when the man she now knew was Clarke walked into the kitchen. Hermann and Mouch were the only other two in there, brainstorming ideas for Mouch's insane run at FD Union President and it didn't escape her observation that they gave him an extremely chilly reception. However, they had practically ignored her as well, so she wasn't sure what to make of it until she saw Mills' stare following Clarke with intensity as the man pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. She worked to ignore the pounding in her chest as Clarke walked towards her, her lungs seeming to refuse to take in air. She could feel her eyebrow twitching, trying to cover it up by draining her glass.

"Fighting Illini, you go to UIUC?" Clarke said, pointing at her cap.

"What?" she managed to choke out, feeling like an imbecile and reaching for the brim of her hat; remembering pulling one from the closet as her father was calling out to her. "Oh, no, my brother did, civil engineering. He's at HQ now, arson investigator. I went away to school." She felt like she was babbling and forced herself to sit down at the table, even though it meant she felt completely dwarfed by Clarke's over six-foot-frame. She figured it was better than falling flat on her ass out of nowhere.

Matt had walked back in and caught the tail end of what she said. "Stop being bashful, Cal, she went to New York, John Jay, full-ride, pre-law."

"You an attorney then?" Clarke asked, sliding a seat a couple of spots down the table out and sitting in it. Cailin only managed a strangled noise in reply. "Law school then?" Clarke asked, trying to gauge her age.

"Stop trying to fish for intel, Clarke," Hermann barked from the couch, "don't go running and telling McLeod we got a civilian back here. You better show your creds, Callahan, before we all get in trouble."

The air grew thick with tension, matched in Clarke's clenched jaw and tightening of his shoulder muscles. She knew from her own practice that he was breathing deeply, trying to not lash out like a striking snake. He was more practiced than her, because he was able to calmly stand up and push back from the table, striding out without a backwards glance.

"What the hell, Hermann?" Matt chastised, shaking his head before realizing Cailin was sitting with her fingertips pressed against her temples. "You alright, Cal?"

She shook her head, "yeah, just a crap day, got a killer headache. Think I'm going to head out, catch you later though?" Matt nodded, "yeah, next chance I get, we'll hang."

"At Molly's," Hermann suggested, though it sounded more like a desperate order.

"Don't worry, Christopher, I've already promised Gabby I will not dare darken the doorstep of another pub."

"Good, though try to not show off the girls in other pub's shirts either," he said, pointing at her tank. Both Matt and Cailin glared at him until he mumbled an apology and made an excuse to head to the locker room.

* * *

Cailin walked out, trying to focus on getting back to her ride before she found herself in the throes of a full-blown panic attack. They had happened less and less, however she was sure that was mainly because there had been fewer reminders since she had left New York and all its memories behind. Or because she had pretty much stopped feeling anything, including anxiety, since she stopped taking most of the cocktail of pills the shrink had given her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Clarke watching her as she walked toward the exit. She wasn't sure what possessed her to stop and turn, walking back to the table he was sitting at before. It was like the scene in the kitchen hadn't occurred. He was back to working on the crossword puzzle, the challenge coin once again making its way over his knuckles. She stood in front of the table, feeling awkward, especially since he didn't even look up. "I'm not a civilian or a law student. I'm a cop. A detective with the CPD, transferred in a couple of months ago." Clarke barely slid his eyes up to meet hers, simply nodding. "From New York, but you probably guessed that because Matt told you I went to school there, which I did, for my CJ Master's too." She was close enough now to see the emblem on the coin. "Marines, huh?" she said, forcing herself to shut up, which was odd because she was pretty sure this was the most she had spoken voluntarily since before…

Clarke could sense the change again, the clouds passing in front of her eyes, her whole face settling into a mask. "1st battalion, eighth Marines." He could tell by her expression that she actually understood what he meant. He decided to ask, though he couldn't believe he was actually eliciting additional information from another person, "you serve?"

Cailin scratched her neck, her scar suddenly feeling like it was on fire. "No, I didn't. My father and two of my brothers were Navy men, and my," she paused, "partner back in New York was in the Rangers, was at Takur Ghar." She stared at the fake wood grain on the folding table, unable to not see Jimmy's face in its surface. Her eyes suddenly caught a glint of light off his other hand, a gold wedding band encircling the ring finger of his left hand. Of course he was married; she just wondered why that fact made her stomach lurch, why she was disappointed by this fact, why she was feeling anything at all. "Nice to meet you, Marine," she burst out before stepping backwards as she forced herself to not turn tail and run to the truck.

He gave her a small smirk, giving her the first sight of his hint of dimples, though the smirk was mostly to cover his slight dismay at catching her staring at the gold band on his finger. "Wasn't aware we had actually met. Jeff Clarke," he said, reaching his hand out across the table.

She placed her hand in his, trying to not be fully aware of its heat or strength or how it reminded her of… "Cailin Callahan, though most of the mugs around here call me Cal."

"Nice to meet you, Cailin," he said, the smirk still there, though it was inching closer to a smile, "and thanks for dinner."

"See you around, Jeff Clarke," she replied, this time giving in and rushing back to the safety of the truck.

* * *

Jeff Clarke lay on his cot, happy for the quiet in the dead of night, but knowing that there could be a call-out at any second. Everyone else seemed asleep around him, which meant they weren't staring at him accusingly. It wasn't the staring he minded, it was the thinking he was a snitch. Obviously they knew little about the Marines, not realizing that _Semper Fi_ wasn't just something he had tattooed on his flesh, it was in his blood. He wasn't about to spy on his brothers for some corporate witch, no matter what she threatened him with.

Things had been rough since he had been gotten back last August, with Lisa, with his house closing, with bouncing around doing substitute work, with trying to not replay death and destruction every damn time he closed his eyes. But he had worked hard, doing everything all the docs recommended down at the VA. He had hoped 51 would be a fresh start. A place to feel like he belonged again.

He realized the weight of the challenge coin was in his hand again, a calming habit he had picked up from some old-timer during those first dark days in Iraq. He originally had spun his wedding ring, but they warned him off of that; being not so politely informed that Marine wives don't take too kindly to their husbands losing their wedding bands in the desert sand. Of course he knew they were talking about Marine wives that didn't take up with another guy the second you shipped out and then tried to play like that hadn't been the case when you got back. He couldn't move the ring now, it was more permanently stuck than his wife had been. At first she said she was moving in with her sister, but then she got her own place, and he was pretty sure he had seen her out on the town with that guy on more than one occasion. It had been nearly a year after all, it was time to move on, he wasn't sure why he hadn't just cut the damn thing off, except back to that _Semper Fi _ thing again.

His thoughts drifted to the woman who had been here this evening, the one that obviously had a past with Casey. Their connection seemed almost sibling-like, not romantic. Jeff couldn't put his finger on why that mattered to him or why he kept seeing her face, those empty blue eyes staring out, practically hearing her heart pound out of her chest, knowing she was feeling like she wanted to pull off her own skin. She had been through something close enough to combat, and for the first time since getting back to US soil, he found himself actually curious about something, someone. Sure, plenty of women hit on him at bars, on calls, at the market; but like most things he was completely numb or oblivious to the attention. There was something about Cailin Callahan that managed to cut through that better than any of the beta-blockers the docs had prescribed for him…

* * *

The nightmare happened again that night, though given Cailin's evening of reminders, she wasn't shocked in the least. It still didn't stop her from waking up in a cold sweat, tangled in the sheets, her face wet with tears her body only allowed herself to cry in her sleep. It stayed with her, the same nightmare it always was, probably because it had been reality...

_She was trapped, her hands bound above her head, the chain link biting into her flesh, dried blood showing the consequences of her earlier struggling. Her body stretched to its limit, her bare feet barely able to touch the cold concrete floor, the sounds of her struggling, of the chain against the lock echoing off the puke green tile lining the wall and ceiling of the room. __She knew their color only from memory, her eyes covered by the dark, scratchy fabric. _

_She smelt him, before she saw him; the overpowering combination of body odor, cologne and something she could only describe as pure evil. His body pressed up against hers as he undid the lock on the chain, his arm trapping her as she almost collapsed on the floor, pinning her own arms against her as they fell, a dead and useless weight at her side. The blindfold stripped off, his breath hot and acrid in her ear, nausea rolling over her in waves as she fought to keep down what little food and water he had given her. She wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't killed her the moment he discovered who she really was, she could only assume this sadistic bastard was using her as a bargaining chip. She was rapidly losing hope that her team would ever find her, comms had stopped working before he brought her here, wherever the hell here was. The last place she had been with him was on a well-appointed yacht somewhere off the coast. She struggled against him, with what little strength remained in her bruised and battered body. She was nearly positive he had drugged her, the blackouts, the loss of time, the blurry vision seemed greater than what she would think, not that she had ever been held captive before. _

_His response was the same as always: tightening of his arm against her broken ribs, the cold steel of the knife-blade against her carotid artery with surgeon-like __precision, his voice low and raspy, "come now kitten, you know better, I don't want to have to hose out this room again," he warned jerking her so she faced the rust-stained drain cover in the floor. "What do you think, is today the day New York's finest finds their finest?" _

_"Fuck you," she hissed, even though her throat was beyond raw and any noise hurt after screaming herself to the point of blacking out when first placed in the room. _

_"Tsk tsk tsk, what happened to the lovely girl I met?" he clucked, moving the blade to the other side of her neck so he could cut off her oxygen with his beefy forearm. _

_It happened in an instant, the steel door flying open, nearly flying off its hinges from the battering ram, the ESU team flooding in, but immediately stopping, seeing one of their own with a knife held at her throat by their suspect in the middle of the room. _

_Doyle filed in hot on the heels of the strike team, also stopping short, though not because of training, but out of paralyzing and blinding rage at seeing his partner and the pure look of terror in her eyes."Ca-" he started but another voice drowned him out, "detective, nice of you to join the party. Took you longer than I expected, that's fine though, gave us a little time to get to know one another better, right kitten?" he said, laughing in a way that made everyone's heart stop. She tried to kick back at him, but she was already starting to black out from the weight of his arm crushing her windpipe. _

_"Let her go," Doyle commanded, trying to eye to see if anyone had a clear line of sight without hitting her, ready to take this animal down by any means necessary. _

_"You aren't really in a position to make demands detective, put your weapon down and lose the vest. I seem to have the best bargaining chip around not to mention the cargo has already been dumped or sold." _

_She shuddered, knowing that the cargo had been terrified, mostly underage, girls being trafficked to the highest bidder. Her movement made the knife blade pierce into her soft flesh, she could feel the blood immediately well up. Doyle and the team saw it as well, she could tell by the way the looked at each other, adjusting their weight and desperately seeking the one shot they needed._

_Yet Doyle complied, setting his glock carefully down, knowing a misfire would easily ricochet off the tiles, and stripped off his vest. "Fine, what do you want then?" Doyle said, putting his hands palms up._

_"Tell your team to leave, I will not bargain while someone is trying to put a bullet in my brain," her captor sneered, his breath hot in Cailin's ear._

_Doyle looked at her, she tried to communicate with him with her eyes, gasping for air as the grip around her neck loosened just the slightest bit. Doyle gave the command, the team quickly filing out. As soon as the last one left, Doyle took one step forward, causing the arm to close tightly back against her throat more forcefully now, the blade biting in a bit more. _

_"Easy, detective, wouldn't want my hand to slip," he warned. Doyle was about to say something when she heard the hollow laughter, felt the knife slice a long diagonal path along her neck, from behind her ear to the hollow of her throat, the blood quickly bubbling to the surface. _

_She couldn't comprehend what was happening, time slowing down and speeding up all at once as he tossed her to the side, the knife dropped to the ground, the echo of the steel suddenly deafening but not as much as the gun that appeared in his hand out of nowhere as Doyle lunged towards her, the entire clip being emptied at his form as he desperately made his way towards her. _

_The team was back in a nanosecond, their own bullets quickly meeting and felling their target. _

_She fought the darkness weighing her down, crawling towards Doyle, who lay twitching on the ground next to her. She had one of her hands clamped against her own neck, the other reaching out to the bloodied hand Doyle was trying to raise toward her. "Cailin," he called out as her fingers entwined in his, the darkness overtaking the last reserves of her strength. "Don't leave me, Jimmy," she said, before giving in to the peaceful embrace of the dark__…_

* * *

A/N: So that playing with the timeline thing, I never was clear what the writer's meant when they had Clarke say his wife left him "in August", or how long he had been back from the Middle East. In tv time it seemed like just a couple of months, but his Marine unit in real-time came back to Camp Lejeune in August 2012, which is a year before Clarke shows up at 51 and what I settled on. Because fiction. Also, hope you aren't offended by the language, but if you've ever met actually first responders or military, you aren't hearing anything new.


	4. Where There's Smoke

_**Chapter 4: Fire in the Morning**_

* * *

Cailin knew she wouldn't fall back to sleep, deciding instead to go for a pre-dawn run, trying to clear her head. Afterwards, she was almost grateful for the call that came in from the precinct, even though half of her was sure it was Belden telling her where she could pick up her uniform.

It wasn't, instead Antonio Dawson's voice came on the line. "Detective Callahan, I'm not catching you at a bad time, am I?"

"I'm good, To what do I owe the pleasure, Detective Dawson?"

Antonio sighed, he really needed someone to move on this quick. He knew Voight would probably chew him out for using one of Belden's people, even though he knew there was no love lost between the New York Detective and the Violent Crime's Sergeant. "I got a tip from a CI, and I need a woman's touch, but Jule's kids got some sort of stomach bug and Voight won't let anyone use Erin for anything without a papal blessing. I got a boot sniffing around, but I think I need someone with a little more experience. You worked with OCCB, in New York, right?"

Cailin listened, her interest piqued for the first time since starting with the CPD. She knew the two women Antonio had mentioned, both rising star cops handpicked for the IU and both were extremely well-respected. To be considered anywhere near their league made Cailin wonder if maybe she wasn't the fuck up she thought she was. "Yeah, for nearly seven years. Started out plainclothes patrol, got my shield with them, did some cross org task-forces with Special Vics and Major Case from time to time, but OCCB was my bread and butter."

"Good, how are you at the soccer mom thing?"

"What?" Cailin asked, it making sense, more or less, when he filled her in on the details.

* * *

"So why doesn't he just set up shop in Hyde Park?" Cailin asked at the rally point a few blocks from the buy house on Perry Ave, the roar of the interstate providing white noise.

Detective Olinsky stared at her, clearly not happy about having an outsider in on one of their jobs. He did admit she looked the part though: perky ponytail, cardigan set, chinos and ballet flats, looking very much like a bored, young housewife needing mother's little helper. "Because scripts and meth to bored soccer moms aren't his only income stream. He runs most of the gambling houses for the GD's between here and the Port of Houston."

"Sounds like the kind of guy you want to bring home to meet your parents," Cailin quipped, adjusting the silk scarf she had borrowed from her mother to hide her scar. The broach clipped to it placed there by the IU's tech guy and was actually her comm unit and a small camera.

Antonio snorted, "just watch your back in there. They are getting ready for a house party, it's Marvel's anniversary date this weekend and he's about to induct six new members. We're hoping the party prep is putting them in a good mood and keeping their guard down a bit. We know we can't get anywhere near the place come the party, at least not without bringing SWAT in."

Cailin nodded, studying the house plans, though she assumed what the city had on file did not include any redecorating done by the BD's. "Let me guess, Voight doesn't like to bring in outside help?"

"Nope, which is why this can't go wrong. Just go in, find some reason to stay long enough to get something on camera, get your pills and get out. Got it?"

"Got it," Cailin said, squaring her shoulders as she unlocked the doors to the luxury SUV they had gotten for her.

* * *

Cailin knocked on the door, trying to not pound on it like a cop. A mountain of flesh with the mark of the tres tattooed on his face answered the door, looking down at her with disdain. "We don't need any girl scout cookies," he scowled.

"I'm a friend of Tina's," she replied, knowing that was the code for scoring Adderall or crystal that all the Hyde Park women used. She had a hard time picturing many of them making this trek on a regular basis, but drugs were a hell of a thing.

"Hey, Marvel, you got a new friend," the mountain yelled into the back, "hold up," he said, giving her a menacing look. Cailin forced herself to look nervous, even as she just wanted to roll her eyes at him.

She must have passed muster, because the mountain came back and ushered her in, breathing down her neck as he gripped her arm and led her to where the King had set up his throne. Cailin forced herself to not break free from his meaty paw, to not land an elbow to his solar plexus to take him down.

Marvel Johnson was holding court on a massive blue velvet chair, stars of David and other tattoos marking him as a high ranking member of the BD's up and down his arms. Two scantily clad women sipped on cognac as they lounged on the couch next to him, despite it being closer to breakfast than lunch. Cailin took in as many details of the room as she could without begin obvious, forcing herself to not meet Marvel's gaze head on. "So a friend of Tina's. You must be new in town, Mrs...?" Marvel said, giving her a smile that showed blindingly white teeth, studded with diamonds.

"Sullivan," she said, using her mother's maiden name, "and yes, my husband transferred here from New York," she said, hoping it was a feasible cover.

"And how are you enjoying Chicago?" Marvel asked, as though they were chatting in a coffee shop and not in a known drug and gambling gang safehouse.

Cailin forced a smile, "it's nice, quieter, which is good. I'm a bit bored though, Thomas made me put the children in daycare three days a week so I could focus on getting rid of the baby weight but I seem to…" she trailed off, trying to look self-conscious while straining to hear a conversation happening in the next room and zeroing on the slightly muffled sounds of dogs barking.

Marvel's eyes looked her up and down, before sliding over to the women on the sofa who were giving Cailin much less kind looks. "You look fine to me, that's the problem with white men, don't know how to handle a little cushion. But you gots to keep your man happy, right, Kayla?" he said, shooting one of the women a look. The woman nodded, cowering into the corner of the sofa, the bruises and burns telling Cailin all she needed to know about their relationship. "Now Doc Marvel thinks we should start you on some 'ralls. By the look of you, you are new at this, maybe a little pot in college, am I right, Upper East Side?"

Cailin nodded, trying to keep up her nervous rabbit act, as she realized the conversation in the next room was getting louder and more intense. Marvel's eyes followed the now yelling. "If you will pardon me for a moment, my associates seem to need my assistance. Kayla and Tavia, please make Mrs. Sullivan feel at home."

Marvel rose and walked into the other room, the two women staring at her like they would shank her in a second. "Is there a, er, powder room?" she asked, hoping it was in the direction of the yelling.

"Top of the stairs, but don't go looking around, Marvel doesn't like people in his business," warned Tavia, who had turned her attention to painting her nails.

Cailin followed the woman's pointing, climbing the stairs, but paused on the landing to try to pick up some of the argument occurring in the kitchen. She could only surmise that one of Marvel's runners had come by claiming to have come up short and the mountain wasn't buying it. Marvel was calmly informing the runner what the mountain would do to him if he didn't come up with the difference when he suddenly stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway to take a call. He glared up at Cailin. "Bathroom?" she squeaked, rushing to the top of the stairs and into the bathroom.

* * *

"So far, so good," came Antonio's voice in her ear, "you're a little too good at this, you know?" he said. "Just try to get some more footage, too bad the bathroom wasn't in the basement."

"I'm pretty sure that is because it is a kennel," Cailin replied, "I'll do what I can and see if I can plant the bug from Jin some-" The explosion came out of nowhere, shaking the house, filling it rapidly with smoke and flames. "What the hell?" she yelled, the sentiment being echoed over the comm.

"Looks like it came from the kitchen, crap, Marvel is exiting out the front, two females with him," Olinsky's voice came over her comm.

"Get out of there, Callahan," Antonio ordered.

Cailin's father had run enough drills on her family growing up, not to mention he had taken her to see plenty of academy burn house runs for her to not panic even as she saw the smoke already coming up under the bathroom door. She had bet Marvel had given the mountain the go ahead on Sylvia Plath-ing the runner and something had gone awry. She also bet the stairwell had chimney-effected the resulting fire from the explosion. She reached out to test the doorknob, sure enough it was already warming to the touch. A small window overlooked the front porch, big enough for her to fit through and luckily over a metal awning, unfortunately it was also mostly above her head. Smoke rapidly started to fill the tiny bathroom. She wet the towel hanging over the rim of the cast-iron tub, shoving it under the door to block what it could, ignoring the chatter happening on her comm unit. She moved back to the window, balancing on the rim of the tub using her shoulder as a battering ram. It was then she realized it was composed of old frosted glass blocks, mortared into the brick of the building. "Uh, guys, I kind of have a problem, please tell me CFD is on their way," she said, testing the door once again, even as the wood was expanding with the heat.

Sirens could already be heard in the distance as Antonio was letting her know they had tried to find a way in, but Marvel had a little too much security. He was picked up by Olinsky with his companions a couple of blocks away, claiming he was only out on a morning stroll. She growled as she heard he was more considered with telling the cops to get his dogs out of his burning house than mentioning there was also a woman trapped inside. "Piece of crap, give me ten minutes alone with him, Antonio, I just need ten minutes, maybe less. Assuming I get out of here," she said, coughing as smoke filled the room.

Cailin filled the tub with water, in case the flames broke through the door, knowing the smoke would probably take her down first, especially given her still slightly damaged lungs. Complications from her blood transfusion last May coupled with pneumonia from the broken ribs had left her with pulmonary edema, something she had neglected to tell the CPD about and was happy the NYPD hadn't put in her jacket, a nice parting gift for all her troubles. She coughed, choking, unable to get her breath, already hearing the crackling in her lungs. Damn it, she had done well enough she couldn't remember the last time she had even done a breathing treatment.

"Cal, hang on," came Matt's voice over the comm, "we're getting the ladder up now."

"Need squad," she wheezed, splashing water on her face as smoke blinded her, "mortar saw, glass blocks," she said, feeling like there was a vice clamp on her heart and lungs. The edges of Cailin's vision started to go black, she knew she should fight it, maybe even harder than when she was bleeding out all over that tiled room upstate, yet it seemed so much more comforting this time, especially since part of her wondered if Jimmy wasn't also somewhere in the darkness.

Another coughing fit brought her back around, the bloody froth filling her palm, panic rising in her gut that matched the chatter on her comm.

"Get that window out now, damn it, I am not ringing Deputy Commissioner Callahan's doorbell and telling him his only daughter is dead because-"

"Stand down, Casey! Capp, power on the saw."

"Voight is going to have your ass, 'Tonio."

"Shay, grab the tank, she'll need extra oxygen."

"Alright, Callahan, if you can hear me, I need you to back away from the window."

Cailin heard the saw power up, right above her head. She worked to crawl behind the safety of the cast iron tub, even though the wall it abutted was growing hot, as shards of glass and masonry showered into the bathroom. One block removed, a halligan appearing to work between the metal strap and nails affixing the blocks to the mortar.

"Clarke, start on the other side," Kelly Severide commanded, as both men worked to balance on the ladder and fight the sturdy construction of the building now engulfed in flames. The engine was already dumping water on the fire, but low water pressure was working against them. The two men working together were able to muscle out the first row of glass blocks, tossing them to the ground below. Kelly peered in, the room darkened with smoke, though he could still hear Cailin coughing. "Call out, Callahan," he said, the beam of his flashlight penetrating the smoke enough for him to see the towel she had stuffed under the door. "Good girl," he said, able to smile as her voice came from behind the tub, "stop waving your freaking flashlight around and get me out!" Or at least that is what he could make out between her hacking coughs.

Clarke smirked from across the ladder, even if the rales clearly emanating from her lungs reminded him of more than one guy that ended up going home in a body bag. He wrapped a leg around the ladder for more leverage, hooking the claw over the top of the second row of blocks and leaned far enough back to have Bowden call up a word of warning, which he ignored as a large hunk of glass and masonry came loose, crashing to the awning below, knocking it half off its rusted frame and toward where the gathered CPD members were standing.

"That's one way to do it," Kelly remarked, with a slightly proud nod, even as the truck guys were catcalling them from hot-dogging it. He knocked out the last bit of glass, disappearing into the now smoke-filled bathroom. Luckily he already knew where Cailin was, though he couldn't get back behind the tub with all his equipment on. He let out the breath he was holding when he saw her emerge from behind the tub, her face streaked with soot. He rushed forward, pulling her out the rest of the way and practically throwing her out the window to where Clarke was waiting at the top of the ladder.

As soon as her body realized it was in fresh air, she started gasping, fighting to get as much oxygen into her fluid-filling lungs as she could. Clarke had to restrain her so they both didn't go over the side of the ladder. "Hold up, Cailin, let's get you on solid ground first, alright?" His body pressed against hers on the ladder, his eyes boring into hers, waiting for the panic to leave them so he knew he could continue to get them down safely. He took in the blood around her nose and lips, a slight blue tint showing though the soot. "I've got you and I'll get you to oxygen, okay, just hold still." His voice was calming enough to stop her struggling, something about his eyes, his presence that anchored her to the present; stopping her from giving in to shadows on either side of her.

Dawson and Shay were waiting by the rig with the gurney and oxygen as Clarke got them safely down the ladder. "It sounds like a pulmonary edema," he said, setting Cailin down on the gurney.

Cailin nodded, still uncontrollably gasping for oxygen, though the hacking had stopped, "had. It. Before." She paused, not quite fighting against the two paramedics, but not working with them either. "Thanks. For. The. Save."

"Cally, stop talking so we can put the damn oxygen mask on you," Leslie Shay ordered as Gabby was filling her brother in on what was happening. "She's got fluid built up in her lungs, most likely blood, seems she has had this before, and the smoke exacerbated things. She doesn't appear to have lost consciousness and her heart rate is elevated, which is actually a good thing. They'll probably put her on a NPPV or a ventilator at the hospital but they got to her in time," Gabby explained, all while taking vitals from the slightly uncooperative detective. "Why exactly was she here, Antonio?I thought she was on cold cases."

Antonio worked his jaw, "needed someone quick, she fit the profile. Was actually doing good."

Cailin fought to sit up at Antonio's surprised statement, pulling the mask away from her face, "not my first…" gasp, "rodeo, Dawson."

Shay glared at the other detective, as she pushed Cailin back down and clamped the mask on her face. "Dawson, tell your brother to back off."

Clarke remained on the outskirts, watching the scene, not backing away until Kelly called for him to pack up the squad rig. "Sua sponte," he said to Cailin, giving her that half-smile again with a small salute before he jogged back to where the rest of squad 3 was.

Shay watched the exchange with raised eyebrows before giving Cailin a smile, "Callahan, I know I am just a big lesbo, but we have got to have a talk about your wardrobe," she said, gesturing to Cailin's soot covered sweater set and now wrinkled chinos.

* * *

**_A/N: I need to pause for a moment to tell y'all how freaking awesome you are! Thanks for all the hits, follows, favorites, reviews and PMs on this story. Hope you are enjoying Cailin as a character, her interactions with CPD and 51 (especially with Clarke). I just wrote a pretty great Clarke/Callahan scene, but it is is in Chapter 7, hope y'all will stick around for it!_**


	5. There's Fire

**Chapter 5: After the Fire**

* * *

Antonio rode with her to the hospital, even as she tried to protest. Matt had also tried to join them, but Cailin told him where to go. Or at least her middle finger did, which was enough of her fighting spirit to calm him down.

Olinsky had already warned Antonio that Voight would be less than pleased, but he was not expecting to find the Lieutenant waiting for them as the ambulance pulled up to the ER. Voight lit into Antonio as soon as he emerged from the ambulance.

By this time, Cailin had gotten enough oxygen to not feel like she was drowning, not to mention she was pissed she hadn't been able to get enough on camera to pin Marvel to the wall.

"We don't use non-IU people for our ops, Dawson!" Voight was screaming, the veins in his head and neck on full display.

Cailin reached out to grab Leslie's arm to stop the gurney as Gabby was filling in the ER doc on her condition. She sat up, pulling off the mask. "I agreed to it, Lieutenant. Better me than a boot. How was Antonio supposed to know Marvel had a freaking gas leak? Don't worry, I don't plan on crying to Belden, we ain't exactly besties." At least this is how it sounded in her head, out loud it was still punctuated by wheezing. Voight stared at her, his eyes boring practically through her. She stared him down, unflinching, which was not what he was expecting. She cocked her head slightly, giving him a look that plainly said, "I'm not the piece of fluff I look like." An ER doc stopped any further conversation, moving her to a bed off the gurney and closing a curtain around them.

They ran the same battery as before, except this time Cailin was conscious for it, and wasn't being given a booster of B-52 to calm her down. Blood gases, lung x-ray and an echo, done in rapid succession because of her badge. All results confirming the diagnosis that Clarke and Dawson had already figured out and Cailin had already lived once before. "Please tell me you don't have to intubate me," Cailin practically begged as the ER doc came in looking over her results.

He looked at her curiously, "Ms. Callahan, do you have a history of lung trauma?" He flipped through the chart, wondering if he had missed something.

"I was hospitalized over a year ago at New York Pres. Laceration that sliced my jugular, several broken ribs and contusions, separated shoulder and broken clavicle. Reacted to the transfusion and got pneumonia." She clenched her jaw, recalling the cause of the pneumonia; it had poured down the day of Jimmy's funeral, she went AMA, and sat in a wheelchair graveside until they finished filling his grave. "Edema came after all that. Did breathing treatments for a while, lots of rehab, PT, OT, all the Ts." The doctor looked at her disbelieving, seemed about ready to order a psych consult. "I'm a detective, doc. I was on an undercover operation that went sideways after seven months of intel and three months of me on the inside. I got off better than others."

* * *

Back at 51, Matt rushed up to Gabby as soon as the ambulance backed into its bay. Gabby looked up at him, trying to give him a smile of reassurance. He had so much happening already with the Darden boys and still grieving Hallie. She hadn't known what to make of the pretty detective that had come back into Matt's life. Not that she had a right to be jealous, she had her chance and there was the zig-zag to Peter. She knew about Matt's past, having been there while his mother got out of prison and the ensuing drama. She also knew about the Callahan family, as he still kept in contact with them. Especially Coleman Callahan,who augmented Matt's contracting business on a regular basis. But she hadn't heard much about Cailin, until she realized the woman was the same best friend named 'Cal' he had growing up. When she realized they were more partners in crime than passion, and had a relationship closer to the one she had with Antonio, Gabby was able to put her jealousy aside and had tried her best to strike up a friendship with former NYPD detective. Frankly, she was glad Matt had someone who had been there for him during the dark days of his youth, content in the fact that she was the one that he seemed to call upon in his dark days as an adult. Now only if she could figure out where he was at. She shook her head, that would have to wait, now Matt just needed reassurance that his childhood friend was fine.

"She's fine, Matt. Doctors were running some tests, the oxygen in transit was enough to put her levels back WNL. She was telling Voight off in the middle of the ER when we left. I don't think this was something new, but Cally didn't seem real talkative about her medical history. What happened to her in New York?" She looked at him with concern and affection clear in her big brown eyes.

He shrugged, feeling slightly ashamed that he didn't know. They had been so close, even after she left, through when she was dating that rich jerk from Columbia, the one that screwed her over right before her NYU law school interview. But after the academy, she threw herself into being a cop while he was throwing himself into being a firefighter. Parallel paths; her getting a gold shield and him getting to Lieutenant before most of their academy classmates; mostly through stubbornness and tenacity, not to mention wanting to live up to the Callahan legacy. "I don't know," he admitted, finding himself wanting to pull Gabby into his arms, thankful that she always was there when he needed her the most. "We lost touch, especially after she got in with OCCB. She spent a lot of time under, and I was moving up here. We kind of lost touch," he let out a sigh, "I'm just glad I didn't actually lose her."

Gabby initiated the hug, her heart clutching in pain at the look on his face, it was clear Cailin Callahan had been, and always would be, an important part of Matt Casey's life. Matt returned the hug easily, his arms wrapping around Gabby, grateful she could be his port in any storm.

Jeff Clarke stared into a compartment of the Squad 3 truck; not trying to purposefully eavesdrop, but somehow more curious than he probably should be for an update on the status of Detective Callahan. Something primal had awakened upon climbing that ladder, knowing she was trapped in the fully engulfed building. It had started when he first noticed her staring at him the evening before, but it had overtaken him the moment he hauled her out of that window, desperately trying to subside the panic he could clearly see overtaking her body. Instinctively he knew she would despise anyone trying to rescue her, probably already had it out with those treating her like she was made of fragile glass; something he was sure plenty of people had done given her stature and those damn wide blue eyes. There was something almost paleolithic, a lizard-brain reflex to protect her; but her armor was thick enough to dissuade most from acting upon any base impulses. Her own reflexes being more like a feral cat not understanding it was being trapped for the best. He felt the air leave his lungs in a wave of relief, not even aware he had tensed up waiting to hear that Cailin would be fine. He tried to shake off the look in her eyes, both the empty stare from last night and the blind panic from this morning; he tried even harder to ignore the feeling in his gut at the memory of his body pressed against hers, the soft curves of her feminine form revealed under the muscles of her chosen profession. Something stirred in him, though it was cut short as the band on his left-hand made a clinking noise against the roll-down door he was currently gripping.

* * *

Cailin refused to spend the night in the hospital, having spent enough time after that awful day in three separate hospitals to know that all of her stats were well within normal limits and that other than the pat excuse of 'for observation', they had no reason to hold her. Mostly she just wanted to get home before her family heard about the morning's adventures and came flooding in to make sure she was fine. At least in New York, with only Doyle listed as her ICE, they didn't know about anything until well after after the incident. Of course they were pissed, but it wasn't the first time major life events had occurred in Cailin's life without her letting them know. She bullied the doc into letting her go, assisted by a pile up on 55 that made beds a precious commodity.

She let herself back into her parent's house, happy to find it empty, the calendar on the fridge reminding her that her father was at OT and her mother had a bridge game. She eyed the bar, debating brining a bottle of whiskey into the shower with her before thinking better of it, especially considering the doctor's suggestion she lay off the booze for a while given her lungs' betrayal. After a long hot shower, washing her still smokey hair twice, she slipped into the clean clothes that had appeared magically on her bed, one of the few upsides of being 30+ and back living with her parents. She glanced at the clock, having trouble believing it was still only the early afternoon, given the events of the day. Of course, she had been up since 3am and Antonio had called her before daybreak. She was rather shocked Belden hadn't called to chew her a new one, and she wanted to escape the same treatment from her parents or brothers. Seeking the only refuge she had since her return to her hometown, she headed to 51 with the hopes of being able to catch the crew and thank them for saving her ass before they got off shift.

* * *

Cailin arrived just in time, some of watch having already scattered, but some of the most important remaining; including Gabby and Matt who were making plans to grab a bite to eat and Leslie and Kelly who were arguing over what they wanted in a new apartment. "What the hell are you doing here?" Leslie asked by way of greeting.

Cailin rolled her eyes, "busted out, but not AMA, you want to see my discharge papers?" Further comment cut-off by Matt giving her a bear hug so tight that she didn't have the heart to wiggle out of it like she normally would.

"Cal, what the hell!" he admonished as Gabby pulled him away, knowing Cailin needed her lungs to remain clear.

Cailin gave Gabby a smile of thanks. "I'm fine, Matty-boy, promise," she said, doing a complete turn with her hands up before shoving them in her pockets and turning to Kelly. "Thanks for saving my ass, Severide."

Kelly shrugged, giving her a full smile, "it's a nice ass, had to do my best." He ignored the mock glare from both Matt and Cal, giving a slight shrug, "besides, Clarke did most of the heavy lifting."

"Are you calling me fat, Kelly?" Cailin teased, knowing full well he meant removing the window.

"You're a buck twenty-five dripping wet, Callahan, don't even start," he shot back, catching sight of Clarke observing and gestured with his head for him to come over. He still wasn't sure what his opinion was on his newest squad member, but he certainly wasn't sold on Mills' concerns that Clarke was the house rat.

Both Gabby and Leslie saw the look in Clarke's eyes as he approached, his pupils dilating as soon as they landed on Cailin. The women exchanged a look. Despite Hermann's vocal concerns, they both hoped his accusations were unfounded; if for nothing more than the fact that there seemed to be a connection forming between the detective and the former Marine.

They had both tried to get information from Cailin about her past, separately, on more than one occasion. The most they had been able to get out of her was that she had been in a relationship in New York but it had ended under less than stellar circumstances. Gabby had more been focused on Cailin not being interested in Matt and Leslie had zeroed in on her not being interested in women. While Cruz and Otis had both made a couple of off-handed comments, Matt had shut them down with a fire that made it clear to everyone, including Kelly in his newly single status, that she better be left alone unless she initiated anything.

"Hey, Kelly, we really should try to get to see that place before we lose it to some frigging DINK couple again," Leslie said, practically dragging him away.

Gabby tried being more tactful. "I'm really glad you are okay, Cal. Maybe we can get dinner or coffee soon?" Cailin nodded, unaware of Clarke's hesitant approach.

Matt pointed it out, "Clarke, good work today," he said, giving him a nod of approval.

Gabby watched as Cailin froze slightly, her chest rising as she took in as much air as she could handle. Yep, definitely potential there. Gabby just wished she knew what the deal was with the wedding band around Clarke's finger, though he hadn't mentioned anything about a wife since he had stepped foot in 51. Of course he hadn't said much about anything.

Clarke shrugged, his hands deep in the pockets of his neatly pressed and starched navy pants. "Part of the job, sir," he replied with a raise of his eyebrows at the Lieutenant.

Gabby cleared her throat, "didn't you want to meet the boys at their school, Matt?" she said, gesturing toward the clock.

Matt followed her finger, "oh, yeah, right." He drew Cailin into another hug, though she didn't even make an attempt to return this one. "Call you later?" he said, getting only a nod in return.

* * *

Cailin watched as Matt and Gabby left, walking close enough to keep brushing up against each other. She was shocked to feel a pang of jealousy; not at it being Matt, but more at their obvious attraction. Not to mention she was shocked by anything she managed to feel as of late.

"Surprised they let you out," Clarke said by way of greeting.

Cailin wrinkled her nose, barely meeting his gaze before a sense of shyness overtook her. "I didn't really give them much of a choice."

He let out a short bark of laughter, "somehow that does not surprise me."

"Beside it wasn't-"

He cut her off, "your first rodeo, I know, I heard you not so politely informing Dawson. Pulmonary edema isn't something to mess around with though, kid."

He nearly winced as her head shot up, glaring at him. Fire practically shooting from her eyes, her hands going to her hips, hackles raised as she quietly, but still full of rage admonished him.

"I am 31 years old, Clarke, and despite the plethora of hipsters strolling around, I am not a god damned kid." She regretted her words, tone and anger as soon as she finished. Knowing he didn't deserve any of her lashing out, especially since he had literally pulled her from a burning building hours earlier. She moved her hands from her hips to drop her face to them, pressing her forehead against her palms, praying for the concrete floor of the station to swallow her whole. "Shit," she cried plaintively. Slowly raising her head to look at him sheepishly. "This is exactly why I shouldn't be around other humans," she said, giving him the briefest of smiles.

He reflected it, replying, "and here I was about to see if you wanted to grab a coffee, assuming the docs didn't warn you off liquids."

She was slightly taken aback at his knowledge and his reply. "Er, just off alcohol for a couple of weeks, and some PT including my favorite, jogging. I'm not sure which is worse." She made a face, showing her distaste for the supposed sport, much preferring something with a clearer winner and loser. She had hoped to find some modicum of silence in the solidarity of the prescribed treatment the firsy time it had been suggested to her; but her thoughts were a less than pleasant place to be and something she hadn't yet been able to outrun. "P.S. shouldn't I be the one taking you for coffee, considering you were the one doing the rescue?"

He pursed his lips, the slightest glimmer in his eyes. "I won't split hairs if you won't. There's a place around the corner that gives us good discounts."

She hesitated for a minute, torn between the desire to turn tail and flee and feeling somewhat magnetically drawn to him. "Discounts are nice, especially if you are, as I so politely pointed out, 31 and in the awesome position of having moved back in with your parents. Crap, I'm not a hipster, am I, Clarke?" she replied, mock horror on her face.

"Gonna go with not likely, Callahan," he replied, holding out his arm to lead the way.

* * *

They walked over in companionable silence, something that was privately a relief to both of them. Cailin was also grateful for the distance he carefully left between them, even if she knew it was only because he had observed her skittishness when they accidentally brushed against each other when reaching for a pedestrian signal at the same time.

"You a medic in your spare time, cowboy?" she asked as they waited on another light.

Clarke shook his head, "nope. Just a fireman."

Cailin made a noise. "Just a fireman, with rescue squad and a Marine combat vet who seems to know a hell of a lot about field trauma, NBD," she mocked.

His shoulders stiffened, "said it yourself, combat vet, you see a lot of crap and learn just enough to be dangerous."

She wanted to take back the words the moment she spoke them, crumbling a little as she saw how it changed his demeanor. "Yeah, I know you do," she said, crossing her arms over her chest to prevent herself from reaching out to him. What the hell was wrong with her, who was she? The light changed, allowing them to continue on without speaking until they settled in at the coffee shop with their mugs.

Cailin stared into the pattern in the foam of her latte, as if trying to divine the right words to say. She looked up at Clarke from beneath her eyelashes, finally coming out with, "I really do mean it, even if it is just your job, thanks for pulling my ass out today." She silently added she hoped is was worth his while, something stopping her from saying that out loud. But as she raised her chin slightly and saw him carefully studying her, it was if he could hear the words ringing through her head as if she had yelled them across the table.

He looked at her as she studied her drink, miles away from where they were seated, shoulders dropping in slight defeat. Her voice slightly hollow and shaky, a contrast from the slight spark he had seen outside when she was teasing him, before he had stupidly shut down. Her reaction to him calling her kid settled into his psyche, he worked to piece together what little he had seen or heard about her. Even as she was thanking him, there seemed to be a tone of regret in her voice. But it didn't seem like that of someone who had given up, was ready to call it quits; no it more seemed like she was carrying a burden around as penance. He waited until she fully looked up, almost challenging her with his gaze, knowing that she wouldn't back down from a challenge. She didn't, her blue eyes immediately shadowing his. "You got a lot of sand left, Cailin, remember that."

Cailin nodded, as if she knew what he was talking about, though she knew she didn't. But she could tell as she watched him internally rewind some unseen movie in his mind that the phrase meant something to him, and that struck her deep down in her soul. "I will, Jeff," she replied softly, not wanting to break the spell he seemed to be under.

Her voice softly saying his name drew him back to the present, to the table in the coffee shop, even as he saw Gil's brains splayed against the wall. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, centering himself, forcing himself to focus on the woman seated across from him. Finding himself saying, "if you want a jogging buddy, I've got some free time, we're 24 on, 48 off." He clenched his jaw as soon as the words came out, slightly worried if he didn't clamp his mouth shut of what might come spilling out.

"I'm acutely aware of the CFD schedule, Clarke," Cailin replied, lightly, noticing his clenched jaw and the slightly caged look in his eyes. She was trying to figure out if he sincerely meant the offer, considering his reaction. Her gut told her he wasn't the type of man to ever offer up anything if he didn't stand 110% behind it, even if her brain was still processing.

"Oh yeah, your father," he replied, taking a long drink of his coffee.

She mirrored his action before supplying, "and two brothers, almost three until Cole decided he wanted to set all his own hours." She looked at the clock, "speaking of my large and over involved family, I should probably go let them know I am accounted for before the fire-wives gossip hotline feeds them too much misinformation." She intentionally did not let her gaze settle on his left hand, though she couldn't ignore the weight on her chest. "Thanks for the coffee, Jeff, my treat next time though, seriously, and I owe you way more than coffee."

Clarke practically jumped to attention as she slid out from her side of the booth but then didn't know what to do; knowing he shouldn't pull her into the hug he wanted to, for a variety of reasons and feeling like offering up a handshake would be insulting. Of course Cailin caught his hesitation, giving him a slight smirk and a light punch to the arm, leaving with "See you around, Clarke."

* * *

_A/N: Despite working in a very large medical center with access to many amazing medical journals, I am not a *physical* health expert, so I am taking liberties with Cailin's pulmonary edema (with research of course). Treatment and recovery seems to be a varied thing, so just give me this one, okay?_


	6. Distant Fire

**Chapter Six: Smoke From a Distant Fire **

_There will keep being CPD crossover stuff, but I am taking liberties with their story lines (so let's take them a little AU). A big ol' hearty WELCOME to all my new readers *waves*! _

* * *

Unfortunately for Cailin, she didn't get home before the party-line had already been activated. A quick head and car count told her most, if not all of her brothers and their had shown up. She thought about just driving off in the truck, but two of her nieces had already spied her. Despite not having a clue what to do with them, her brother Connor's two girls were fascinated with her, and Colin's girl was about to climb on that bandwagon. Literally, Cailin thought, as little Kiera came flying up and wrapping herself around her aunt's legs squealing, "Auntie Cally, I have a loose tooth!" Cailin extracted herself, unable to handle being smothered by sticky hands that couldn't understand her need for personal space.

Luckily, Connor stepped outside and convinced his eldest daughter to distract her little cousin. Connor had recognized the way his little sister carried herself since arriving back home as being one of the walking wounded. They hadn't spoken about all she had been through be he still knew rambunctious children using her as their own personal jungle gym was likely to result in Cailin hiding out in her room with a bottle of whiskey. "Inside, the lot of you, wash up for dinner!" Connor commanded, his tone serious enough to make everyone comply. Connor waited for all the kids to head in, giving Cailin the slightest of head nods. "You good?" was all he said.

She sighed in relief, worried he was going to want all the details. "Yeah, I'm good. Just can't drink for two weeks, which will be severely tested starting...now," she quipped.

Connor smiled, "probably so, but I'll protect you, or at least try." True to his word, Connor did his best to deflect the incessant questions volleyed in Cailin's direction. Colin also stepped up to the plate, having heard about Cailin's adventures and her rescue over at his station. Though he couldn't resist teasing, "you know, sis, if you really wanted to meet a fireman, you could have just stopped by my station."

"Super hilarious, bro," she said, though she did give him a small grateful smile.

"Too bad it was a jarhead that rescued her, huh, Pops?" Connor said, looking at their father at the head of the table.

Cailin was at least able to use her days adventures as an excuse to hide out in her room before dinner was even finished, her mother's concern giving her a pass on having to stay until the last family member left. "Try to get some rest, dear, I'll check up on you later."

"No worries, Ma, I'm fine, promise," she said, meaning it at least physically. She crashed out shortly after retreating, helped by pharmaceuticals. Cailin knew better than to face the night without them. The nightmares still were constant, but she was able to stay asleep until her alarm clock started buzzing.

* * *

Though after Cailin encountered her boss, she wished she had stayed asleep. "Callahan, what the hell is wrong with you? Do you work for IU?" he stared at her until she shook her head. "That's right, you work for me, you are my detective, Violent Crimes. Which means I can't figure out why you were out there playing dress-up to check out drug dealers for Voight!"

"It wasn't for Voight," Cailin started to protest.

Belden kept pacing in front of her desk, veins bulging, "I don't give a crap who it was for, because it wasn't for me. Remember me, your Commanding Officer? But no, you have to suck up to IU, like they would ever take a cop with a jacket like yours. Voight doesn't need any competition in the police brutality ring, sweetheart! And on top of that, you have to get yourself trapped in a burning building! What is this business with recurrent pulmonary edema? Did you lie about your medical clearance, Callahan, because if you did, so help me god, I will kick you to the curb!"

"I didn't lie, sir, I got clearance months and months ago, I was back to work in New York, just fine!" she protested.

"Just fine? You call four excessive force complaints and three transport prisoners with separated shoulders and one with a broken arm just fine?"

Cailin shrugged, staring through him. "They were all bigger than me, I did what I had to do to bring them in."

"Take them down is more like it. But not my problem. My problem is I am already short-handed and an ER doc calls me up first thing to tell me you shouldn't exert yourself except in a controlled manner. Which I am guessing means you can't be out in the field, in case anyone pulls a runner or is 'bigger than you'," he mocked. Cailin opened her mouth to speak, but Belden held up a hand, "shut it, don't even. Work the rest of the cold cases as you can from here, you're riding this desk until you get full medical clearance and if you try anything, I'll make it full psych clearance too." His look told Cailin it wasn't an empty threat.

"Yes, sir," she said with a sigh, pulling out what remained of the stack of cold cases.

"Now excuse me while I go fill out the mountain of goddamned paperwork you have created for me," muttering under his breath, "I really should call HR about retirement."

Within a few short hours, Cailin was over riding a desk. At least he hadn't asked for her gun and badge, she wondered who she had to thank for that; whoever it was she owed them cookies. Lots and lots of cookies. She paced around the precinct, waiting for any of her phone calls to actually end in a lead. The desk sergeant kept glaring at her, she was betting Belden had warned the woman not to let her out of the front doors.

"Look, Detective Barbie, could you stop with the pacing? You're frightening the boots and I'm a little worried one of them is going to crap their pants. There is a reason I am not a mother. I don't do crapped pants," Sergeant Platt yelled at her from behind the desk.

Cailin looked up, realizing roll call had just finished and several probationary uniforms were staring at her, some of them with hands grazing towards their tasers. The last thing she needed was an over-exuberant boot with an itchy trigger finger tasing her in the middle of the precinct entrance.

"Making friends, Callahan?" Antonio Dawson asked, overhearing Platt as he came down the stairs. "Want to take a walk?" Antonio asked.

Cailin chewed on her lip, until the formidable Trudy Platt made a shooing motion. She rolled her eyes, "only if it is in the precinct, I'm benched until I get clearance."

"We'll stay inside the perimeter, I promise," he said, leading the way. He waited until they rounded the corner before asking, "how are you feeling? Surprised you came to work today."

"I'm good, more or less. Obviously you haven't met my family, otherwise you would know exactly why I am here and not at home. Even Belden is easier to handle, at least he just yells."

Antonio looked at her with slight amusement, "family is like that. At least you didn't get shot." Cailin stopped short, holding her palm to the wall to steady herself before realizing that Antonio was talking about himself. "Back in February," he explained, looking curious at her reaction.

"You've recovered nicely," was all she managed to reply with, though she felt like an idiot even as the words were coming out of her mouth.

Antonio shrugged, "it's like boxing, after the first hit, you don't get to be scared anymore."

Cailin kept her response to herself, looking up and realizing she was somewhere in the precinct she hadn't seen anymore. Near a loading dock, in what looked like a cave. "Is there were Voight hangs upside down during the day?" she joked.

"Not exactly," he laughed, "though it is generally utilized only for IU business, and seeing you were on IU business when you almost got deep-fried, figured you could get a pass. Plus, it is generally pretty quiet down here and probie free."

They talked for a while, Antonio wondering if she had talked to Gabby lately, worried about how Molly's was doing, mentioning something about a 'silent partner' hanging around. Cailin got the idea that Antonio had more information then he was willing to give her, but she wasn't about to push.

* * *

Cailin returned to her desk, greeted by an angry stare from Belden. "What, you want to put a tracker on me? I didn't leave the building, I swear." He just curled his lip at her and kept walking. "Whatever," she muttered, slumping back at her desk and staring at the clock. If only her phone would ring with a lead…she was staring at her phone so intently, that when it rang she jumped and fumbled to answer it. "Detective Callahan," she answered with what she hoped was a bark of authority.

"Cailin?" came a voice, just a hair shy of hesitant and slightly familiar. Cailin's brain tried to process the identity of the caller and figure out why her stomach was doing flip-flops when the voice continued, "you're probably busy, I was just calling to see how you were doing."

Oh, so that was why. "You check up after all your saves, Marine?" she answered, hoping she sounded teasing and not bitter. Wow, she was rusty on this flirting thing, Wait, was she trying to flirt? Dear God, she was trying to flirt.

Jeff Clarke bit back a smile and his desired flirtatious response, settling instead on, "only the ones protecting our city, ma'am."

"You should probably hang up then, because I'm not protecting any more of this city than my desk," she volleyed, "coach benched me."

"Ouch, for how long?" He felt awash with a mix of concern and pity.

Cailin let out a sigh, "until I get full clearance from the Doc. I take back what I said yesterday; being trapped in the precinct is definitely worse than jogging or not drinking."

He could help but let out a small bark of laughter as she sounded so dejected over relatively minor inconveniences. "You'll be back before you know it, ki- Cailin," he caught himself, recalling her reaction to him calling her kid before, "especially if you follow doctor's orders," he stressed.

"So you're one of those, should have figured you would be by the book; but I think people should have to suffer through one meal with my crazy family before they start talking about not being able to drink," Cailin said with a laugh, though it was slightly tinny.

"Then meeting me for a prescribed jog would actually be an escape then?" Clarke pulled his phone back and stared at it, where the hell had that come from? He really had called just to see how she was doing, a casual check-in.

Cailin was staring at her own phone, wondering if she had heard correctly; though she felt slightly possessed as she replied, "well, now that you mention it. But you have to remember I am not a member of the United States Marine Corps and just yesterday my lungs were trying to down themselves."

"I'll take it easy on you then. Meet you at the field house at the Point at, say oh six hundred hours?"

"I thought you were taking it easy on me, Clarke?" Cailin replied with a groan.

He let out a snort, "hence why I said six and not five."

* * *

Cailin was not what you would call a morning person. Of course for work, she jump out of bed at a moment's notice. But on her off time, there was nothing she liked more than staying cocooned in the warm safety of her bed. Especially before the nightmares and dark ruminations. But the next morning, she found herself up and out of the house before anyone else stirred. She didn't, or couldn't, admit to herself that Clarke's invitation had been one of the best motivators for her in a long time.

He was already there, doing tricep dips on a park bench. "Show off," she grumbled in greeting, trying to not admire his physique in his tight and impeccably pressed t-shirt. She looked down at her own slightly wrinkled t-shirt, not wanting to look like she had made an effort. She should have made an effort.

"Just killing time," Clarke replied; his eyes flicked over her, taking in her appearance. He wasn't overtly trying to check her out, he just noticed details. Like her ponytail pulled to the side to cover up her scar, how her New York Rangers Callahan t-shirt swam on her, how her shapely legs jutting out from under her running shorts. Stop, he instructed himself, before saying, "nice shirt," gesturing, "except we're in Chicago."

"I lived there for 13 years and the Blackhawks don't have any Callahans playing for them. There are worse teams to root for," she replied, while stretching, mostly to avoid his intense gaze. He merely nodded in that stoic way of his and continued with his workout, patiently waiting for her to finish.

Cailin could tell he was holding his pace back the entire jog, and while she knew she should be grateful, she was really more frustrated at her body betraying her. It didn't matter that she was trying to keep up with a firefighter who usually ran drills with gear on and hadn't had his lungs fill with fluid two days before.

Clarke could see her frustration, yet he also knew she would push herself past the breaking point if he didn't keep things in check. "We can stop," he said, slowing even further and jogging in place.

"I'm fine," she replied, panting, feeling the wheeze in her chest and knowing she wasn't, but she didn't want to admit that to him.

"We're stopping," he said, more forcefully this time, hearing the hiss of air in and out of her lungs.

She stopped, but only because he had. She glared at him as he stretch out against a lamp pole. "I'm not made of glass and I really wish everyone would stop treating me like I am going to shatter at any second!" she snapped, her anger cutting like a knife, welling up out of nowhere. This would have been more powerful, except for the coughing fit that accompanied her attempt at a full breath. "Damn it," she swore. Clarke didn't say anything, leading them both over to a nearby bench. Cailin dropped down with a sigh. "I suppose that would be more believable if I didn't look and sound like I have TB. No wonder everyone thinks I'm broken."

He sat on the bench next to her, not too close, staring out over the water, his elbows propped on the back of the bench. He would have seemed relaxed if it wasn't for the clenching of his jaw. "Flecti, non frangi," he said with the slightest raise of his eyebrows.

Cailin made a noise, not quite a laugh that matched her not quite a smile. "Bent not broken, I should really consider that as my next damn tattoo."

Half of Clarke's mouth twitched up in a half-smile as he wondered about her existing tattoos, which weren't visible, leading him to ponder…he gave himself an internal shake. Don't go there, Jeff.

"Enjoying you're own personal vacation over there, cowboy, since the wimp cut your run short?" Cailin said from beside him, only slightly turning her head to look at him.

"Has anyone actually ever called you a wimp, Callahan?" he said, also slightly turning his head.

She furrowed her brow in mock concentration, "probably my brothers."

He caught her glancing at her watch, struck off-guard with the sudden want to spend more time with her. "You have time for a coffee?" he said, hoping he sounded casual. What was he doing, what was wrong with him? Except his wife cheating on him, feeling like not all of him came back from Iraq and not knowing if the woman sitting next to him was going to shoot him if he made a move.

Cailin froze, feeling caught in the act. She had looked at her watch wondering if their time together was drawing to a close, finding herself craving more time with him, shocked by that fact. "Er, yeah, I guess I could, not like my desk will need backup." She hoped she had played it off, even as her heart rate was increasing and she could feel a flush spread throughout her body, like a ridiculous adolescent girl.

Their coffee turned into breakfast and even though they had just chatted about surface level things like the cold cases she was working or funny calls he had been out on, there was something comfortably familiar about being with one another. Without anyone walking on eggshells or feeling like the other person didn't 'get it'. While neither of them said anything, both felt a sense of serenity that had alluded them for some time.

For the next two weeks, working around their shifts, they jogged nearly every day. Clarke was able to strike a magical balance between not letting Cailin give up or push herself beyond her limits; something nobody had been able to do, not even Doyle. In some ways, this was a metaphor for something bigger about to come, growing quietly between them as they each opened up a little more with each other; talking about families and growing up, a little about some of the horrors they had seen in this world.

They also talked about the goings on at 51. Cailin was avoiding stopping by while Mouch was running for union president, not wanting any connection made between her and his competition; who was also her good for nothing brass-kissing second cousin. She had little to nothing to do with Greg Sullivan, though her mother had ranted plenty about her nephew refusing to support his children. Cailin had also been a bit hesitant and embarrassed after her rescue, even if she knew it was illogical.

Clarke didn't press; with Hermann's vocal belief that he was the rat and nobody really offering a belief to the contrary, he didn't want to create tension for Cailin in one of the few places he knew she felt was a refuge.

They spent a good bit of their time together in relaxed silence, each providing a small sliver of solitude for the other; just the mere presence of the other keeping some of the monster at bay. And while Cailin desperately wanted to ask Clarke about the gold band still displayed on his left hand, and he wanted to ask her how she had gotten the scar, both held back though as if sensing that the truth would come out when it was ready to.


	7. Fire it Up

**Chapter 7: Fire It Up**

_A/N: Here we go folks, I would love to get your feedback on this one. Warning, there is about to be a bit of a bumpy ride ahead; but wanted to give you this first. As always LOVE, HUGS & VIRTUAL COOKIES to all my readers; y'all are awesome beyond words!_

* * *

Cailin finally got her medical clearance, making a shorthanded Belden as close to happy as the gruff sergeant could get. Knowing she was still on thin ice with her boss, she jumped at the first case that crossed her desk, throwing all of her time and energy into it; even as it kept her working practically non-stop. The case seemed to criss-cross with IU, Voight and his detectives having their hands in seemingly everything from organized crime to littering in this city, unfortunately her only ally on his team was with his wife and kids enjoying a little R&R at the in-laws. She kept at it though, trying to keep out of IU's way as much as possible, unwilling to be bumped back to uniform.

Clarke was also busy, picking up a couple of relief shifts while still on his usual rotation at 51. This hadn't helped Hermann's accusations of him being a double agent. At least Mills had the balls to talk to him about it and then shut things down with his accurate accusation of Spellman. That was apart from the grisly fire with Hadley, the ridiculous wellness challenge HQ was putting them through despite still putting 51 high on the chopping block and whatever Leslie Shay was going through after that call blew his brains out all over her. Normally, Clarke just wanted to put his head down and mind his own business, but something had shifted slightly in him; enough for him to have Capp take the bolt cutters to his ring and to tell Shay about what happened with Gil. He wasn't entirely sure what had taken ahold of him, but in the dark quiet of night he knew deep down that it had more than a little to do with Cailin Callahan.

Which is probably why he left that slightly rambling voicemail trying to fill her in on 51's activities and ended with a bashful invite to Molly's.

Cailin finally wrapped up her case, getting a full confession from the scumbag who murdered his girlfriend, offing her for being a slut even though he was the one that passed her around to his 'banger buds. She set a trap by playing the simpering airhead, getting him to brag about his swagger and pull with his gang; she disgusted herself, but it got the job done without the excessive force Belden had warned her about.

By the time she walked out of the interview room, dropping the notepad on Belden's desk with the confession, there was nothing she wanted more than a long, hot shower and to scrub herself raw. She practically turned the locker room into a rainforest, ending up missing Clarke's call. She felt conflicted as she saw the missed call from him, her gut telling her that she had missed seeing him over the past few days. Her head told her to check her armor for chinks as her heart rate sped up as she listened to his voicemail. This frightened her enough to almost text him and turn down his invitation; but she knew her mother was watching one of her brothers' kids tonight and she just didn't have the energy. Plus, she had finally been cleared to drink; if only in moderation.

* * *

And so she found herself at a mostly empty Molly's, sliding on a stool next to Clarke.

Clarke just gave her a look as she slid up the bar to the left of him, slightly raising his eyebrow at her. He could see the tension clearly displayed on her face and the way she was holding her herself. He forced himself to keep his hands wrapped around his pint glass, concern coupled with a sense of contentment over her taking him up on his invitation, made him want to reach out to touch her.

Hermann gave Cailin a long, questioning look as he pulled the beer tap, questioning her health. "I'm fine, Hermann, really. You want to see a doctor's note or do you actually want to make some money?" she replied, bristling. She apologized immediately, but he had already walked way, shaking his head.

"Sounds like you need that," Clarke said, reaching for his pint to raise to hers. He was slightly taken aback by the silence in the act, still used to the faint clink of metal against glass; he stared at the tan line as he swallowed the hoppy liquid. He noticed Cailin next to him, observing carefully. Already going quiet again, ruminating about something; he guessed it was a mix her interaction with Hermann and the case she had worked. Then he noticed her eyes focused on the white strip of skin on his left hand and the slightest twitch of her eyebrow as she took a drink a long swallow of her own beer.

"Seems like you do too," she replied, wryly, a smile playing on the corner of her lips, though Clarke noticed her eyes still kept their slightly matte look.

They chatted for a few minutes, Cailin giving the faintest of details about her case, Clarke sharing a couple of saves. Cailin noticed Gabby studying them, meeting the other woman's eyes for a moment as Gabby dried a stack of glasses. She gave Cailin a small wink, but didn't say anything. Cailin inwardly winced, the last thing she wanted was to be the topic of conversation down at 51, especially since Clarke seemed to be finally fitting in. Which was something she had found out after forcing herself to call Matt, mostly because Coleman wanted to know when he might have time to help him out on some contracting jobs. She valued the long friendship she had with him, but her fears of being a burden prevented her from reconnecting as much as she would have liked. The phone call was good, giving her much of the information Clarke had left on his voicemail; though Matt's info was filtered through his role as Lieutenant. She also had gotten the impression that Gabby had been more than a little help with the Darden boys, who were still in Matt's care and that he didn't mind having her around.

She looked at Gabby again, wondering not for the first time what was happening between the pretty EMT and Matt. Despite the walls around her own heart, her desire to not let anyone in; she wanted Matt happy, Gabby as well. They were both great people and seemed be a good fit for one another, even if they weren't yet together. Such a match was rare…Cailin's mind wandered, flooding itself with memories; that hot August day when tensions mounted beyond what either of them could handle, trying to keep things a secret, their solution to their boss calling them out, that last night before she went under, the last time she saw him until that awful day when her world crumbled…

It wasn't until Gabby cleared her throat, starting to come over, that Cailin came back to the present, becoming painfully aware of Clarke's presence next to her. She suddenly jerked away from him, her movement knocking over her pint glass, spilling her remaining beer.

"No free refills, Callahan," Hermann called from the other end of the bar, "you spill it, you buy it!" Cailin didn't even respond, taking in a long, shaking breath; trying to remember the mental exercises the shrinks tried to teach her. Clarke offered to buy her a refill at the same time Gabby asked if they wanted to order in some dinner.

Cailin shook her head, trying to fight the waves of nausea, willing her heart to slow down, shaking as she reached for her bag. She exhaled, slowly, trying to play things off, desperately wanting to get to the privacy of the truck, "nah, Doc did say something about moderation, so I'm going to take this as my cue to call it a night," she said.

"Text me and let me know you made it home safe," Gabby said, not liking Cailin's sudden pallor. Cailin nodded, practically jumping off the bar stool, giving them all the barest of waves.

Hermann and Otis didn't notice, their attention turned back to ESPN, but Clarke had watched her since the moment she sat down. He had seen her studying Gabby, seen the change come over her; knowing while her body was sitting next to him at Molly's, her mind was a miles away. He watched the blood drain from her face, her jaw start to tremble, her curling her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, heard her rasping breaths. He counted in his head as she breathed in and out, 4-7-8. In, hold, out. Could feel her fighting to come back, to keep the lid on, to stop everything from going dark. "I'm walking you out," he called after her, sliding off his stool to follow after her, taking in the look of thanks from Gabby.

* * *

"Cailin, wait up," he called, as she had run out of Molly's, faster than she had moved on any of their jogs.

"I'm fine, Jeff," she replied, barely looking back over her shoulder, stressing his first name in such a way they he knew his use of her given name was more intimate than she liked. She rushed to the truck, rummaging through her bag for her keys, wildly trying to untangle them and fit them into the lock.

Clarke's hand closed around hers and the keys, his presence behind her causing her to freeze. "Sure you should be driving?" he questioned, his voice low and serious, trying to keep his tone concerned and not demanding.

"I'm all good," she snapped, wrenching her hand and the keys out from under his palm, flattening herself against the side of the truck, trying desperately to create space between them. Clarke could tell what she was doing, stepping backwards, even if it was the opposite direction he wanted to move. Literally and figuratively. She looked at him, grateful for the space, her eyes still those of a trapped animal.

"I think maybe some ghosts followed me from New York followed me," she admitted, swallowing rapidly, shocking herself with her confession, but remaining pressed against the truck, crossing her arms over her chest, her posture shutting him out.

He nodded, stoically. His ghosts had made a re-appearance since his gear room chat with Shay. But he was still desperate to reassure her, to let her know it did get easier. "We all got ghosts, Callahan, some of us are just more haunted than others," Clark remarked, seeing her jaw set itself in familiar stubbornness, her defenses firmly back in place. "Get home safe," he said, forcing himself to turn and walk away back in the direction of Molly's; he wasn't going to push her.

Cailin watched him take a few steps, her heart sinking as the distance between them grew. She realized that even though she had put her walls back up, there was Jeff Clarke shaped hole in them. She cleared her throat to call after him, needing to tell him before the weight on her chest crushed her.

"His name was Jimmy Doyle," Cailin called out after him, her voice puncturing the dark.

Clark stopped in his tracks at her voice, it seeming to come from the bottom of a well. He turned slightly, looking at her. He saw the slight smile on her face, one that didn't meet the faraway look in her eyes; this made him turn all the way back around, his hands shoved in his pockets as he waited for her to continue.

"Actually, it was Jameson," she continued, "but he didn't let many people know that. Can you blame him, Irish cop from Woodside named after a whiskey?"

"You said 'was'," Clark pointed out, feeling he already knew the answer, but also knowing she was going to need prodding to get the truth out.

"Yeah, he was my partner in New York, for four years," she said, unable to look him in the eye, staring over his shoulder trying to not see Jimmy's body falling to the ground from the hail of bullets, bullets he took because he would have done anything to save her.

Clarke nodded, his lips set in a straight and somber line, silently urging her to continue, starting to feel like puzzle pieces were falling into place around them. But he wasn't expecting what she said next, as she hooked a finger over the chain around her neck, pulling it out from under her shirt.

"He wasn't just my partner, he was also my husband," she admitted, the two gold bands, similar to the one he had just cut off, glinting in the light from the street lamp. He forced himself to not react, knowing she need to finish whatever she was willing to reveal to him. "He died because I messed up on the job, because I got my cover blown. He died trying to rescue me, he died taking bullets that I should have taken, I may as well have shot him myself. So, yeah, Jeff, you could say I'm haunted."

For the first time since his funeral, where she sat in the pouring rain until the last bit of dirt covered Jimmy's coffin, unable to look at anyone because the look of blame seemed clear in everyone's eyes, Cailin Callahan felt tears fill her own eyes. She angrily brushed them away. She hadn't allowed herself to cry since the doctors had to put the restraints on her. She wasn't allowed the privilege of tears, it should have been her six-feet under. Jimmy was dead because of her and that was something she had to carry alone.

The words seemed to echo in the night air, the same air that nearly crackled with electricity as though her confession had summoned a storm. Without either realizing it, Clark closed the distance between them, one hand brushing her hair back behind her shoulders, the thumb of his other hand brushing away the tears that still stained her cheeks. In the next instant, he leaned in, pressing her body back against the truck, their lips meeting as if magnetized; the kiss immediately intensifying, feeling simultaneously foreign and like coming home for them both. Cailin worked to free her arms, wrapping them his muscular torso, giving in completely to the embrace until the cold metal of the rings bit into her flesh.

The physical reminder like a bucket of cold water, causing her to break off the kiss and push him away with far more force than he was expecting. He worked to right himself, staring at her as she dissolved in front of him. "I can't," she implored, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face as she gasped for air, clutching at her chest, the chain and rings cutting into her palm, "I just, I'm broken and you're married and-" she gulped, trying to not choke, "I just can't!"

Clarke stood there, rooted in place, watching her as she wildly looked for her keys, which she had dropped along with her bag when she started to tell him about her dead partner, husband, he corrected himself. He spied them beneath the truck, reaching for them, trying to not take it personally when she winced as he moved near. He couldn't quite believe he had actually kissed her, though he didn't regret it, there was something about their lips meeting that made everything fall away and a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a long time wash over him. He just wished he knew if she had felt the same thing, that she wasn't shutting him out now. He handed her the keys and tote, shoving his hands in his pockets, mostly to stop from pulling her to him again. She took them, staring at him, a battle playing out in her eyes. It made his instincts and training kick in, making him want to do the thing he knew would wreck her, protect her, rescue her. His eyes remained locked on hers. "I didn't mean any disrespect, Cailin," he finally said, softly.

"I know you didn't," she said, torn between wistfulness and regret. Something about his stare making her continue with her confessions, "I said I can't, Jeff, not that I don't want-" her statement interrupted by a thunderous crash from inside Molly's.

They both sprang into action, Clarke running ahead, wondering if there was an explosion, Cailin reaching for her gun, wondering if it was a robbery. As they turned the corner, two figures were exiting the bar. Clarke stopped, pulling himself to full height and looking like he was about to charge the pair. Cailin froze as well, but for another reason, recognizing one of the men as someone from the precinct. His eyes locked on hers, from behind the greasy looking fat guy in the leather jacket Clarke looked like he was about to take down. Jay, H-something, she recalled as he gave her the slightest shake of his head, gesturing for her to hide the service piece clutched in her hand. She did, reaching for Clarke's shirt at the same time, yanking it hard enough to get his attention. She moved behind Clarke's frame as the pair walked past, hoping it hid her, her badge and her gun. The larger of the men barely looked in their direction, barking something at Jay before sliding into his car and roaring away. Gabby came rushing out of Molly's then, without Hermann or Otis in sight, rushing straight up to Jay looking at him in such a way that Cailin was sure this was the bit of information Antonio had kept from her. Jay gave her another look over Gabby's head, before opening his own car door and gesturing for the brunette to get in. It was only then Cailin realized she still had Clarke's shirt clutched tightly in her fist. She dropped it sheepishly, holstering her weapon.

"Want to fill me in, Callahan?" he asked, giving her a curious look.

"I'm not entirely sure," she paused, "about any of it," she continued, her tone making it clear she was also talking about their earlier kiss.

He gave her the slightest of smiles, looking suddenly shy. "Yeah, well that makes two of us."

Cailin returned his smile, catching sight of Gabby exiting Jay's car and knowing she needed to see what was going on. She gave Clarke a look she hoped conveyed some of what she was thinking. "See you around, Clarke?" it coming out more as a desperate question than the parting statement it normally was.

He nodded, catching that she was back on the clock. "I'm not going anywhere, Callahan," he replied, his eyebrows shooting up as he gave her something closer to a full grin before giving her a wave and turning towards home.


	8. Ghosts in the Fire

**Chapter Eight: We Didn't Start the Fire**

_A/N: WOW Y'ALL! I need to write faster. I've tried to post a new chapter once the previous chapter gets 100 unique visitors, BUT so many of you are reading that I am slacking on "real life" trying to keep up. It is MUCHO appreciated and I am trying to get ahead; who needs sleep? Warning, bit o' drama ahead & lots of background. Who's ready/so not ready for the season finale tonight?_

* * *

After clarifying Jay was, in fact, on the job and repeatedly asking the trio in the glass-strewn bar if they wanted to make a formal statement, Cailin finally headed towards home; her mind swirling with thoughts. Revealing the truth to Jeff, combined with the kiss, had opened a Pandora's box that she wasn't sure she could handle being open. Memories of her time with Jimmy flooded her brain, while her stomach filled with butterflies over Jeff's strong arms wrapped around her, his mouth hot and open on hers…

She made it home on complete autopilot, offering up a silent prayer at the darkened house. Cailin crept in, not wanting to wake her parents because she could not deal with talking to anyone. She reminded herself she really needed to get her own place. Finally in the safety and privacy of her room, she stripped off her clothes, pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. In some ways she felt lighter after telling Jeff about Jimmy, she hadn't said all of those words aloud to one person before, especially not in one fail swoop. Now that they were out there, she wasn't sure what it meant, even more so after his reaction to her unburdening; she definitely was not expecting that. Yes, she had felt an immediate connection to Jeff, but she sincerely hadn't been attracted to anyone since burying Jimmy.

Back in New York, the advice had been endless and often contradictory: get right back out there, marriage was a sacred union, they'd only been married for three months (most of which she spent undercover), their partnership was forever. Cailin hadn't really been able to sort for her own feelings, mainly because she hadn't let herself have feelings. It was easier that way.

After graduating from the academy, she had thrown herself entirely into her work, jumping at any assignment. It had gotten her into the plainclothes unit after only a couple of years of patrol, it was there she had first met Jimmy; the slightly introverted detective helping her earn her own gold shield. They hadn't been partners at first, at least not until the need arose for a pair of detectives to go undercover as husband and wife to try to bait a contract killer for spouses who felt murder was cheaper than divorce. Cailin got the assignment by default, one of only three women in OCCB and the only one neither pregnant nor near enough to retirement to refuse UC ops. Jimmy ended up volunteering, his own marriage was on the rocks and he thought the break might be a good thing. He was ten years older than her, something he liked to rub in by constantly calling her 'kid', but they managed to form an easy partnership; intuitively knowing each other's move and reaction, communicating without saying a word.

Jimmy replaced Matt as her best friend, helpful since they were in the same city and on the same job and he just got it. Unlike with Matt, there was always a hint of attraction and tension between the two of them. While usually being completely in sync, they had thrown down in the middle of the pen on more than one occasion. Usually when Jimmy disagreed with Cailin's drive to take more risks to get a collar while he wanted to a backup plan to the backup plan. In general, they ignored the attraction; something that was easier until Jimmy's tired of being a cop-wife Penny left. Meanwhile, Cailin never went on more than three dates with anyone; refusing to deal with guys who thought she should have a more traditional job or just wanted her to handcuff them. Badge bunnies were of both genders, that was for sure. She just couldn't be bothered, her job was her life.

Hell, she hadn't even gotten her own apartment after graduating from John Jay; finding a perennial trust-fund PhD student who was more than thrilled to rent out a furnished room to a roommate that was rarely home. Until the PhD finally finished and got a job in Europe, something she neglected to tell Cailin about until moving day. Which is how she became Jimmy's roommate, even though that made it incredibly difficult to ignore the constant undercurrent of sexual tension between them. However, neither was willing to deal with a new partner at work to have a partner at a home they were rarely at.

It worked, at least until they had a huge blowup about Cailin insisting they needed somebody on the inside of the Nansenko case and willing to do anything to not have the FBI steal the case from them. Jimmy thought it was too soon and didn't think Cailin should go in, unwilling to put his partner in deep with a known arms dealer who was now dealing in high-class call girls and inching closer to human trafficking with teens. Cailin had gone to the head of the task force offering herself up without telling him and for the first time, he was the one who exploded in anger first. The blow up moved from the precinct to the pub, where a few too many shots of his namesake and a pop-up thunderstorm on the way home combusted and they were both goners. Forced to hide their relationship from their superiors; it became more difficult until their Lieutenant finally called them out on it shortly before Cailin got in as one of Nansenko's girls. Unwilling to get yanked off the case or give up their partnership, they eloped at the courthouse one afternoon. Not exactly romantic, and partly why Cailin didn't even tell her family she got married until after the shooting when they couldn't figure out why she was practically catatonic.

Cailin felt something rigid underneath her pillow, rediscovering the Army cap of Jimmy's. It was his favorite thing to wear off the clock and one of the few things she had taken from the apartment, Jimmy's parents and ex-wife laying claim to nearly everything. She had been so overwhelmed with guilt and her own complications with healing after burying the man who had been her mentor, partner, best friend and husband, that she wasn't willing to fight for anything; not even his survivorship benefits. She pulled the cap out, flipping it over to see his name written on the inside of the brim, along with the same words Jeff had said to her, 'sua sponte'; the motto of Jimmy's regiment meaning 'of their own accord'. The same words she had tattooed along her spine, despite warnings from the doctors that it would be extremely painful and she shouldn't get one after a massive blood transfusion. She didn't care, she couldn't feel any pain and she needed to carry around a permanent reminder of her role in his sacrifice.

She curled on her side, clutching the cap. For the first time in well over a year, she let herself remember and mourn. Yet even as the tears soaked her pillow, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, cosmically, Jimmy hadn't put Jeff Clarke in her path. Clarke with his damn challenge coin and ridiculously blue-green eyes, sent to remind her that she was, in fact, still alive.

* * *

Jeff Clarke couldn't sleep. Yet he didn't allow himself to get up from his bed. Forcing himself to lie in the dark bedroom in his concrete box of a bachelor pad, he kept replaying the night's events over and over in his head. Actually, he kept replaying every moment of every interaction he had with Cailin. He knew she was struggling with the past, that something had broken her spirit; he just hadn't expected a dead husband. Frustration mounted within him as he realized he was jealous of this revelation.

Technically, because he couldn't bring himself to file the months ago signed papers, Cailin was correct; he was still married. There was something that didn't sit well with him about the word 'dissolution', saying they had tried everything but the marriage could still not be saved. They hadn't done anything to try to save the marriage. Lisa had simply left, didn't want to deal with all the ghosts Jeff brought back from Iraq. She had moved on long before she moved out. Though she did end up moving back in to their sunny condo that Jeff couldn't stay in knowing she had brought another man in while he was out defending his country. So since she got her cake and his combat pay, she wasn't arguing. At least there weren't kids involved despite both claiming to want them; like they knew they didn't want them with each other. Sometime he wondered why they had even gotten married in the first place, other than wanting to make her mother happy on her deathbed or because married housing at the Camp was nicer. He shook his head, forcing himself back into the present.

He was frankly still amazed he actually had kissed Cailin. Yes, she was the first woman he felt attracted towards in longer than he could remember, he wasn't sure it was true attraction. He wondered if it was actually a base need to protect her, to try to save another broken soul. It was who he was, after all; long before he took a job running into burning buildings, running towards gun fire. Those doubts vanished completely after the kiss. It wasn't about fireworks or all those ridiculous cable movie sentiments, it was about everything else falling away, everything going quiet. Something about his arms holding her to him anchored him, filled him with peace and light like he hadn't known. Ever. To him it was like he kept forcing a key that wasn't cut correctly into the lock and he finally had found the original, the 'do not duplicate', and things were suddenly opened. He had struggled to fight the darkness since coming back; often feeling like he wasn't in control of his own body, shocking himself with constant simmering rage threatening to boil over at any moment. It had taken so much of his time and effort to keep a lid on that, it had exhausted him and used all his spare resources. Unearthing this truth wasn't as peaceful. This connection and the undeniable attraction to her frightened him. Between Lisa and Iraq, he'd been betrayed and lost so many people, that he had created a buffer zone around his heart and life. Not to mention he wouldn't be able to live with himself if the rage constantly rolling in his gut released itself on Cal. Exhaustion finally overtook him, as he fell asleep wondering what was going through her head.

* * *

Despite three scant hours of sleep, Cailin found herself wide awake before 5am. She had dreamt about trying to find something or someone who constantly evaded her as the landscape kept shifting. It wasn't a nightmare, exactly, and she was pretty sure what she was hunting had actually been either Doyle or Clarke and she wasn't sure whom she wanted her subconsciousness seeking. Avoiding her parents and whatever grandchildren and spent the night, Cailin threw on jogging gear hoping the fresh air would clear her head. By habit, she ended up at the Point, torn between relief and disappointment when Clarke wasn't there; even though it was earlier than they normally met when he was off shift.

She stuck in her headphones, unable to handle the chatter in her mind, and took off, trying to outrun her own thoughts. It didn't work, despite pushing herself beyond what she could handle. She stepped off the path, feeling light-headed, resting her palms just above her knees as she leaned down, trying to force blood back into her head. It was then the palm gripped around her bicep. Cailin's training kicked in, she shot an elbow back into the muscle behind her, trying to stomp on the perp's instep, whirling and shouting, "bad move, buddy, CPD." Then she saw who she had just lashed out at. "Crap," she said, seeing Clarke trying to get his breath back, holding his ribcage. She rushed to him, concern overriding any potential embarrassment or awkwardness from the night before. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you!" she implored, laying a palm over his hand and guiding him back to a picnic table.

Clarke sat on the bench, feeling his diaphragm start to unclench. He gave Cailin a half-smile, "good to know that wasn't for last night. You got a permit for that elbow, Cally?" he teased, looking up at her with a bit of a twinkle in his eyes.

Cailin felt her stomach twist as she could feel herself falling into those eyes, reminded of how they looked at her right before he moved in for the kiss, how the air between them felt like it was on fire. She gulped, hoping she wasn't blushing.

It was then Clarke took in her cap. Tattered and worn, well-loved...and from the 75th regiment. Jimmy Doyle's unit. Was she trying to tell him something? Had her confession last night erected a barrier between them instead of connecting them like he thought it had? "I called out, you didn't answer, didn't know if you were hurt," he said, this truth coming out far more gruff than his teasing had.

Cailin saw the storm clouds gather in his eyes, the flash of anger coming right on the heels of his teasing. What had happened? She moved to wipe a trickle of sweat, brushing up against the brim of…damn it. She hadn't thought when she threw on the cap after having clutched it all night, merely trying to get out of the house before anyone woke up. "I'm a cop and done enough sexual assault interviews, you would think I would know better, huh?" she said, trying to not react to Clarke's sudden anger or her realization of wearing Doyle's cap. She put one foot up on the bench beside him, swinging herself up to sit on the table.

Clarke just sat there, working his jaw, trying to figure out what to think or feel or say. He hadn't even meant to come to the Point, his apartment having far closer running paths. Yet he found himself driving on autopilot; his morning jogs with Cal become an ingrained part of his routine and he definitely was still a slave to routine. Part of him disappointed when he didn't see her sucking down a coffee and grumbling about the early hour or weather or whatever the later-riser detective decided to pick on that day. Then when he had caught her now familiar figure bent over, his heart clenched. Thinking she was hurt, he had sprung to action without waiting for her to answer.

Cailin slipped the cap off her head, hoping she appeared casual, making a point to adjust her ponytail and wipe her forehead. Her heart plummeted as Clarke continued to clench and unclench his jaw, staring off into the distance. She wrinkled her nose, feeling frustrated. She rested her elbows on her knees as she played with the buckle on the cap, finally coming out with, "so Molly's is being targeted by some mob scumbag who wants a cut and we've got someone on the inside and I think Gabby's involved with him."

This got Clarke's attention, if for nothing more than the fact it seemed to come out of nowhere. His head snapped up towards her, taking in the cap she was now absently playing with. He still didn't speak, not having clue what to say.

"That's what last night was about. The two mugs leaving the bar and me stopping you from laying the fat one out," she clarified, setting the cap next to her, "though seeing it is obviously an ongoing investigation I'm going to ask you to forget I said anything." She tried to give him a smile, failing when she saw how icy his eyes still looked.

"That all you want me to forget, Callahan?" he asked, looking pointedly at the cap lying between them before locking his eyes back on her face, waiting for her response.

"Think you and I of all people know forgetting ain't that easy, Clarke," she replied, tightening her jaw so she didn't yell at him for kissing her if he didn't mean it.

Clarke observed the tightening of her jaw, taking it to mean she wished he hadn't kissed her. "But it can be done," he replied, keeping his face blank.

Cailin jumped down from the table top, her anger bubbling up, "look if you regret kissing me, just frigging say so, okay, Jeff? I know how much of I wreck I am, you aren't going to hurt my feelings!"

Clarke gaped for a moment, trying to figure out how their wires got crossed, slowly standing and putting his palms out towards her. "That isn't what I was trying to say, Cal, I-"

She cut him off by holding up a finger, reaching for her vibrating phone. "Callahan. Where? Yeah, I'm on it." She hung up, already shifting to being on the job, where at least she felt somewhat in control. "I gotta go, robbery gone bad. Catch you later, Clarke?"

She was already jogging back toward the parking lot before he could respond, already out of earshot when he called out her name after grabbing the cap she left behind.


	9. Set Fire to the Third Bar

**Chapter Nine: Set Fire to the Third Bar **

_I am not saying anything about the season finale here. Mostly because I haven't watched it yet because a friend had DRAMA! But I am saying a HUGE THANK YOU to my 1,000 visitors to this story! And I am thanking you with this chapter with a bit of C&C bonding. :)_

* * *

The robbery turned into a homicide case when the clerk died in the OR, keeping Cailin too busy to dwell on whatever the hell had occurred between her and Clarke earlier that day or the night before. In fact, it kept her busy enough through the next couple of days that she didn't have time to realize he hadn't contacted her. It wasn't until she picked up her next case that she even paused to ruminate over their last exchange; and that was only because of what it was Belden told her she had to do.

"You want me to question my friends, who are firefighters, to see if they burned down a competitor's bar?" she asked when he gave her the assignment. "This is a joke, right?" she said, looking at the file.

"I don't do jokes, sweet cheeks, take Helling with you to make sure you actually do your job!" Belden snapped.

She glared at him, "I can do my job, just find, I just closed the diner case, didn't I? Did you even bother to ask the UC about the fire?"

"What UC?" Belden asked, "this better not have anything to do with fucking Voight, Callahan."

Cailin shook her head, wondering if Belden ever bothered to check in with other departments, probably not. "Whatever, forget I said anything. Helling, come on, but I'm driving."

"Jesus, Sarge, what did I do to piss you off?" he asked, not enjoying his temporary partnership in the least.

Helling charged into 51 like he owned the place before Cailin even got the car in park. "Oh for Christ's sake, Helling, we're all on the same team," she yelled after him.

Matt was already out front, cutting off Helling's path. "Can I help you with something, Detective?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest. Helling glared at him, "yes I need to question-"

Cailin came up behind him, all but shoving him out-of-the-way. "We just need to have a chat with the Chief, Lieutenant Casey," Cailin said, using his full title both to remind Helling to show some respect and for Matt to know she was here in an official capacity.

"Right this way," he said, giving her a curious look. Helling followed, with Cailin trailing behind; pausing as she caught sight of Clarke sitting at the Squad table, reading the newspaper. "Clarke," she breathed, realizing just how much she regretted yelling at him in the park.

"Callahan," he replied, his expression giving away nothing.

She studied him for a long moment, deciding to extend an olive branch. "Sorry about the park. If you hadn't figured it out, I'm not a morning person." She punctuated this with a smile, hoping to lighten the tone. It didn't, he just nodded, flipping a page in the newspaper. "Alrighty then, see you around, Clarke," she said, stomping off.

Clarke put the paper down, he hadn't really been paying attention to it since he first saw Cal pull up. He had debated calling her countless times, but kept stopping himself. He was in over his head and he knew it; not because of her self-proclaimed baggage or his technically still being married. No, he was in over his head because Cailin Callahan had awakened something in him he didn't even know still existed. He was desperate to maintain this connection with the only person to give him peace and make him truly feel, but he wasn't sure he could handle not being able to act on his undeniable attraction. Of course he still didn't know where he stood on that. Damn it, he needed to talk to her. He pushed back from the table, heading into the station.

* * *

Cailin saw Chief Boden's eyes widen in surprise when he saw her walk up behind Helling. "Chief," she said, clearing her throat, looking sheepish as he gathered up the trio they needed to question.

"I hate to ask this, but where were you when the fire at Game Day started?" Cailin tried to keep her tone non-accusatory even as Helling glared at her. The trio mirrored his glare, theirs mixed with disbelief. Cailin felt pinned under the weight of her eyes. She hadn't considered for a minute that the three had anything to do with the other bar's fire; she had even wanted to check in with Jay Halstead, but Belden had practically kicked them out the door.

Hermann was clearly irate, snapping at them, "so you're saying we're suspects? Unbelievable."

"Is it? An old bar catches fire, you three buy the place at a great discount, fix it up and then Game Day comes along and suddenly business ain't so good. They call the cops on you, you call the fire marshall on them that's what we call an escalation," Helling replied, laying out his theory. It was Cailin's turn to glare, hers directed at Helling.

Hermann shot back with, "did we have a professional rivalry with Game Day, absolutely, but would we ever in a million years consider torching the place, absolutely not! We're good salt of the earth people, ask anyone. Ask her," he said, pointing at Cailin, his voice rising, pointing his finger in her direction, practically poking her. "I can't believe you are even asking this, Callahan, you know us!"

He and Otis both stared at her accusingly, and from the corner of her eye, Cailin could see Boden's look of disappointment. She couldn't bring herself to look at Gabby. For a moment she was back at Jimmy's funeral, seeing the look on his parents' face, his sister's, their co-workers; their eyes all saying what Cailin's heart said with every pump, 'your fault, your fault, your fault'. She had just been trying to do her job, just like she was now.

Anger washed over her as Hermann continued to scowl at her. She rose up, stepping closer to him, fists on her hips, challenging him. "Don't look at me like that, Hermann, we have to investigate! I don't tell you how to fight fires!"

Helling cleared his throat and put up a hand, "okay, we just wanted to let you know where we stand. I'll come back with some followup questions if we have any." He gave Cailin a look before striding out.

Cailin couldn't handle having her friends angry at her, her own anger fading away. She put up her palms, "I have to do my job, guys. I know you had nothing to do with it!" She finally looked at Gabby, desperately trying to convey this, wishing she could mention Jay. She let out a sigh, "we have to ask the questions, I don't get to pick what cases I'm assigned. Just sit tight, okay?" She gave them one last pleading look before walking out with a nod to Boden, "Chief." He gave her a slight nod back, still looking disappointed.

* * *

Brushing off his surprise that Shay didn't know where Severide was, Clarke turned the corner, feeling relief at seeing Cailin standing there until he overheard the other detective dressing her down.

"I thought you were playing the good cop, what was that Callahan?" Helling snapped, not caring who overheard.

Cailin looked around, hating her intense reaction, feeling out of control. "I don't like being told how to do my job," she said, staring out over his shoulder. It was then she saw Clarke, frozen in the hall. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment as Helling kept berating her.

"Well then you ain't gonna like this: you better learn to keep a lid on it! Jesus, if this is how you are with your supposed friends…" he trailed off giving her a look.

Cailin didn't like his implication, arguing, "they are my friends and they didn't burn down Game Day. They were in their own bar when Game Day went up. We haven't even gotten the report back from the arson investigator!"

"Which conveniently enough comes through CFD. It better not be your brother," he said, giving her a look.

"What are you saying?" Cailin pressed, her hands balling into fists.

He smirked at her. "I'm not saying anything, wouldn't want one of the Callahan clan calling the Commissioner on me."

"Screw off, Helling."

"Whatever, I'll see you in the car, Callahan and I'm driving," he said striding off.

Cailin's body was full of a mix of anger and shame, so as Clarke approached her, she found herself scowling at him, even though her heart sped up just seeing him walk towards her.

Clarke took in her scowl, but decided to ignore it. He moved in close enough to feel the heat emanating from her, lowering his voice so nobody could eavesdrop. "Try to not take his head off, okay? Head down until the mission's completed."

Cailin nodded, her temperature rising at his closeness, the low timber of his voice sending currents through her, she couldn't help but imagine him pressing her against the wall behind them. Except she couldn't let herself fall again. She took a breath, squaring her shoulders and forcing the thoughts away.

Clarke observed the change in her, but wasn't willing to leave things strained between them. "Can we talk, Cally?" he asked, softly, looking down at her, forcing himself to not touch her despite his hands nearly having a mind of their own.

"I've got to get back to the precinct and sort this all out," she said, her defenses weakening as she looked up into his eyes, forcing herself to look away, step back. She finally conceded, "I'll call you when I'm done." Clarke nodded, willing to take whatever he could get.

* * *

Helling glared at her as she got back in the car, but her glare back told him to not push. As soon as they arrived back at the precinct, she stormed straight over to the BOC and Jay's desk. She stood in front of it, seething. "Look, I know Belden doesn't ever talk to other departments, but could somebody in your department maybe loop him in on your little undercover case; because I just had to question some of the few friends I actually want to keep in this city."

Jay looked at the angry detective in front of his desk, trying to make sense of the incongruence of the pretty girl-next-door blonde raging at him. He found himself trying to not laugh, figuring that would piss her off even more. "I'm trying to keep my cover intact, I'm close, but we don't have anything to tie Arthur to the fire. I'm hoping to get him provoked." He couldn't resist adding, "maybe I should have you pay him a visit."

"Hilarious, Halstead," she replied, realizing she was tapping her foot in front of his desk, arms crossed over her chest like she was a scolding teacher. She probably looked ridiculous. "Could you at least let Gabby know she isn't a suspect? I need all the female friends that understand my job as I can get. And let Helling know too, because I doubt he'll believe me."

Jay nodded, "on it. I really am close, Callahan. You know how it is when you can see the finish line, but something is standing in your way."

"More than you know," she said, dropping her arms to her sides, "and thanks," she said before heading back to the VCU where she was sure Helling had filled Belden in.

True to his word, Jay stopped by, giving Cailin a wink before stepping into Belden's office. Helling raised his eyebrows at the exchange to which Cailin just replied, "I told you they didn't do anything."

"Whatever, just stay over on your side and try to work on that anger management."

That night Cailin received a phone call from Gabby. Her friend informed her that she had told Otis and Hermann about Jay's undercover status, seeming to want make sure she hadn't done anything wrong. Cailin tried to reassure her that as long as they kept it under their hats, things would be fine. Gabby also told her Jay wanted her to try to provoke Arthur, something that didn't sit well with Cailin, but she wasn't going to interfere in another detective's case; especially since she could see him as a potential ally, something she needed since Helling and Belden were against her. The two women made plans to get together as soon as their work schedules lined up and Cailin felt a little better. Except she was still trying to sort out her feelings for Jeff, especially considering she was re-mourning Jimmy. She couldn't deny the intense connection and she was certainly attracted to Jeff, but he ran into burning buildings for a living and Cailin was pretty sure if she had to bury anybody else she was that connected with, her soul would shatter.

Belden came out of his office the next morning, giving Cailin a look that said he didn't like telling her what he was about to tell her. Which she figured could only mean something had moved forward with Jay's case. "Seems you were right, Callahan. OCB had some kid undercover looking into some lowlife for a number of charges. Seems this guy, Arthur, just tried to set those friends of yours' bar on fire and shot the UC. Thought you might want to get down there and help with the arrests."

"Shot the UC?" Cailin yelped, rising from her chair and gathering her things.

She arrived at Molly's seeing the medics working on Jay with Gabby next to him. Cailin also ran into Antonio giving him a look. "How many departments are we going to have working one case?"

"You know how it is, everyone wants a piece of the glory," he nodded with his chin towards Jay, "especially him, he wants in with IU."

Cailin pursed her lips, "you all expanding?"

Antonio raised an eyebrow at her, "why, you want in too?"

Cailin rolled her eyes, "no thank you, as much as I despise Belden, the last thing I need is being encouraged to use force. Not to mention my jacket doesn't really read for a promotion."

Antonio gave a slight laugh, "you might be the first cop I've ever talked to that doesn't want in the intelligence unit. Let me know if that ever changes though."

"Not likely. Now who still needs linking up?"

* * *

By the time they got everyone processed and through the paperwork, it was nearing dark and Cailin was starving. Remembering her earlier promise, she found herself calling Clarke to see if he wanted to catch dinner; thinking if they were in public things might go better. Or she would at least be less likely to yell at him again or try to rip his clothes off.

Clarke fished the phone out of his pocket, slightly shocked by the caller and even more so by the invitation. He wasn't sure why he expected Cailin to just avoid him, but was relieved she hadn't. He met her at a diner close to her precinct twenty minutes later, feeling more like a slightly bashful teenager as he entered the diner than he cared to admit as he spied her at a booth in the back. "Fancy joint, Callahan," he said, sliding across from where she sat, typing on her phone.

She mock glowered at him, "I don't get out much, Clarke. Plus they make a great reuben."

"Two this evening, Detective?" the waitress asked. Her tone clearly surprised as she appraised the newcomer in the booth across from the detective. For months the young woman had come in at all hours, often bringing stacks of case files with her, as though she were avoiding the precinct down the block. Dottie had never been able to get much out of her, but the detective tipped well enough she didn't mind. Some of the old-timers told Dottie way more than she ever wanted to know about life on the streets, so the silence was welcome.

Cailin just nodded, absently tapping on her mug as Dottie handed Clarke a menu. "Thank you, ma'am, but this one says you make a good reuben and I trust her judgement." Dottie couldn't help but notice the pretty blonde looked slightly taken aback at the gentleman's statement. "What about you, sweetie, your usual?" Cailin nodded again, seeming slightly distracted, "sounds great." "Coming right up," Dottie said, refilling their waters before walking off, wondering about the detective's handsome dining companion.

"So I take it we're not getting three new people at 51?" Clarke asked as Cailin looked like she was trying to divine something from her beverage.

Cailin forced herself to look at him, even though she was feeling completely like a fish out of water. "Nope, Molly's and the gang are safe, we all got a collar and neither Belden or Helling yelled at me today; I'm counting it as a good day."

"Helling the jerk who was dressing you down in the middle of the station?" Clarke inquired, feeling overprotective.

Cailin made a face, "yeah, though that time I probably deserved it, I kind of went off. Between them all looking at me like they were blaming me and then when Hermann tried to tell me how to do my job…let's just say I could have handled myself better."

He looked at her a long beat, knowing that feeling, the sudden snap from darkness to blinding fury. "And he could have waited until you were back in the car at least."

Something in his expression, protectionism combined with concern made Cailin's mouth go dry, her heart skip a beat; the opposite of her normal annoyance when others treated her like an incompetent bunny rabbit. This seemed different. She took a long drink of water before saying, "I'm a big girl, Jeff, I've dealt with more than a couple of jerks who don't want hens in the cock house."

Clarke felt relief she hadn't reacted to his statement, a flood of endorphins filling him as she softly said his name, her mouth twitching into a half-smile. His reply stopped by Dottie coming with their plates. "Full reuben plate for you, sweets, half with a salad for this one." She winked at Cailin who was looking at her plate in dismay, turning quickly back towards the kitchen.

"Something wrong, Cally, other than calculating how long of a run it will take to burn off this sandwich?" he smirked at her.

Cailin picked up a piece of limp lettuce with a look of distaste, "who gets a freaking salad in a diner? My usual is a half with a side of fries, I think Dottie might be trying to tell me something."

"Yeah, to get your cholesterol checked," Clarke teased, even as turned his plate so his fries were having her, "but here, feel free, because I agree with you on the salad thing." They ate in silence for a couple of minutes until Clarke asked, "so what do you know about this piece of work Shay is hooking up with?"

"Jeff Clarke are you wanting locker room gossip? I never would have expected!" she said, with a smile of amusement, her stomach fluttering at his boyish look at her reply.

He looked at her bashfully; he had tried to come up with something safe to discuss, not really wanting to bring up their kiss or the resulting disagreement in the middle of the noisy, overly bright diner. And he wanted to make sure Leslie Shay wasn't punishing herself for that suicide call. "Just wanted to make sure she was coping after…" he trailed off with a small shrug.

"Seeing Darryl blow his brains out, probably not, but I think Kelly will keep her in-between the lines. Between him and Gabby, she' ll be okay," Cailin paused before adding, "if she lets them help her." They looked at each other, both thinking that wasn't very likely. "I'll see what I can find out." She continued looking at him, more playing with her food because of the butterflies in her stomach just being seated across from him. "You're a good guy, you know that?" she said, the words spilling out of nowhere. She fiddled nervously with her hair as soon as she said them.

Clarke didn't look away, even as he saw her fidgeting. "I try," he said with a smile before realizing neither of them were actually eating. He took the chance before he could over think it. "Want to get this to-go and take a walk?" Cailin found herself agreeing, flagging Dottie over, completely mesmerized with his gaze locked on hers.


	10. No Smoke

**Chapter 10: Fire Woman**

_A/N: Giving you a little sweet before the bitter and some girl time as well (must be going around *Ms Isabella*). As always, thanks and let me know what you think! _

* * *

Exiting the diner, Cailin realized they didn't really have anywhere to walk to. After giving her food to a homeless guy, she looked around at the abandoned lots and what remained of the housing projects. "I like to bring people to the most scenic of places," she quipped.

Clarke gave her a bemused look, "you've got a gun and a badge, Cally, and I think I can handle my own." He then realized that since she didn't have her gun and badge physically on her, Cailin was garnering a fair bit of attention from the street youths. "But how about we head over towards Seward Park?"

"Probably a good idea," she said, following quickly after him.

They walked in silence, and while it wasn't awkward, it wasn't as comfortable as it had been before their kiss and the discord that followed. Each was ruminating over what to say when finally Clarke reached out and lightly gripped Cailin's arm to stop her. He tried not to take it personally when she jumped at his action, especially since she tried to cover it.

Cailin walked, not knowing what to say; while that wasn't anything out of the ordinary, her desire to maintain some sort of connection to the man walking next to her was nearly overwhelming. She just couldn't silence the little voice inside her telling her she didn't deserve happiness after Jimmy. No matter how much she wanted Jeff to just stop and grab her and…Cailin jumped at he did actually grab her, though he was just standing there which was not what she had daydreamed. She tried to cover her skittishness, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets as though it had just been a shiver.

Clarke dropped his hand, still standing close to her, looking at her seriously before saying, "you aren't a wreck. At least not anymore than the rest of us."

"What?" she asked, trying to stop picturing him pulling her in for another kiss and figure out where his statement came from.

"At the Point, you wanted to know if I regretted kissing you because of how much a wreck you are. You're not and I don't." He startled himself with his admittance. "Unless I should," he added, with a slightly shy look down at her.

She looked up at him coming out with, "probably," her word accompanied by a timid smile. "I just wasn't expecting it, the whole 'dead husband-partner guilt PTSD constantly freaking out thing' doesn't really lend itself to letting people get close. Not that I've even attempted to let anyone try." She took a deep breath, making herself not look or run away like she wanted to.

He kept his gaze fixed on hers, even though he could tell she wanted to flee. "I wasn't expecting it either. At least not the husband bit."

She let out a small noise, between a laugh and a cry. "I only wore my ring for 72 hours before I went under, so it kind of seemed in bad form to wear it after I got him killed."

"No worse that wearing one a year after your wife leaves you for one of the guys she's been seeing since you first went off to war," he said with a sigh.

Cailin's hand had a mind of its own, reaching up and planting itself on his tricep as she replied, "oh, Jeff, I'm so sorry, that's awful."

He stiffened slightly under her palm, causing her to pull her hand back and look down at the ground as if ashamed. Regret immediately washed over him. Her hand on him didn't bother him, in fact it was taking all his inner strength to not pull her up to him. How much he wanted to feel her soft lips beneath his, to inhale her somehow sweet yet still heady scent, to possess her as much as she would allow...But instead he made her think she had done something wrong by reaching out to him. He felt a growl rise in the back of his throat. "I also wasn't expecting this thing, this connection we seem to have. Tell me I'm not imagining things, Cailin," he said, his voice low, shifting his weight forward so his body briefly contacted hers, getting her to look up.

Feeling his body press against hers caused Cailin's heart to clench and her head to snap up. She felt her brow crease as her mind and body warred with all her conflicting emotions and thoughts. "I have no idea what to make of you, Jeff Clarke. Or this," she gestured between them, "because, yeah, there is something there. I came back home because I spent every waking moment in New York worrying about when I would next break down, what the next trigger was, trying to shut off feeling, being. I didn't come here to find peace or connection or a damn kindred spirit; I came back to not feel anything at all!" She raised her hands up, bringing them down as she stepped back, away from him. "You're messing that up, Clarke!" He stayed rooted to the spot, letting her have space, letting her process. She finally took another breath, stepping back toward him, though still further away than she had been. "I already had no clue how I should act or react to anything!" She blew her hair out of her face, shoving her hands back in her coat, waiting for him to respond; feeling vulnerable and hating it.

"I don't think there is a playbook for our kind of situations, Callahan, wish there was," he replied, giving her a small smile, wanting to pull her in for a hug; a source of comfort instead of confusion.

She gave a small sniff, "no freaking kidding." She caught sight of his watch as he scratched nervously at his head. "Crap, I should probably head out soon. Unless Mt. Greenwood has suddenly moved closer, not to mention I finally, stupidly, convinced my mother I can do my own laundry when it turns out don't actually have the time to."

"You aren't just trying to duck this conversation, are you, Cally?" he asked, hoping he sounded gently teasing.

"No, not at all, Jeff," she said, before looking him straight on, "okay, maybe a little. It's just, after college, I threw myself into being a cop. I refused to go on more than three dates with a guy. I had a weird relationship with my partner not ever expecting to marry him and sure as hell not expecting him to get killed on my watch; so this 'thing' between you and I is above my pay grade and really freaking scary!" Her words lay heavy between them, as did the almost magnetic attraction.

Clarke didn't know how to respond, he knew her admittance to being afraid was as big a deal as her agreement that there was something there. He worked his jaw before saying, "I think it might be above my pay grade as well, but I doubt we're going to figure anything out here, tonight, so how about we walk back?" Cailin nodded, not verbally replying because she had no clue what to say, though she did move in closer to his side as they made their way back to their vehicles in silence. Clarke cleared his throat as they reached her borrowed truck, "uh, hold tight a second, I have something in my trunk." Cailin watched with the truck door open as he jogged down the block and pulled something from the trunk. "You left this in the park the other day, I figured it was important," he said, handing her the cap.

She reached for it, their hands brushing, she swallowed at the electricity at the smallest of touches; especially since she was reaching for her dead husband's baseball cap. "Yeah, considering it was about the only thing his parents and ex-wife didn't take," she said, offhandedly, before taking in his look of confusion. "Maybe we should talk about more than sports and our jobs," she said, with a small shrug, leaning against the open door.

"You think?" he replied with a wry smile. He rubbed his neck, mostly to not lean in and kiss her goodnight. "I'm not going to press for anything, Cailin. Though I gotta say, there is definitely something about you. I think I need more of that in my life and I think you do too; no matter what the call in the imaginary playbook might be. Ball is in your court, Callahan."

She gave him the closest thing she had to a genuine smile, "I'm only 5'5", I'm really bad at basketball." She shocked herself as she lifted up on tiptoe and with a smirk said, "but I'm willing to play," before kissing him on the cheek and sliding into the truck, pausing to add, "see you around, Clarke." He gave her a quick wink and held up his hand as she pulled away.

* * *

As if Cailin had shocked herself enough with her boldness, she continued with actually sharing some of her exploits with Gabby when they got together the next evening for wine and dinner at Gabby's place. They had already discussed Mouch's election loss, Kelly's discovery of a half-sister and Leslie's bad-girl Devon, when Gabby admitted she broke up with Jay. She said it was because of the undercover thing, but Cailin wondered if it didn't have more than a little to do with Gabby's feelings towards her oldest and dearest friend.

"UC is tough, of course I am sure Antonio has told you all about that. I can't even imagine, his wife completely separate from our world, their marriage must be rock solid," Cailin said, with a faraway look in her eyes.

Gabby nodded, running her finger around the rim of her glass, "you ever thought about it, Cally, being married?"

Cailin almost choked on her wine. "Er, actually I was for three months."

She didn't expand and Gabby didn't press, thinking it must have been some youthful indiscretion, except she did ask, "does Matt know?"

Cailin smirked, "sort of." It was the truth, she had called him after she and Jimmy left the courthouse, feeling like she had to tell someone other than HR; she just hadn't filled him in on the tiny detail that the Jimmy she had married was the same Doyle that he knew had been her partner for years. Their friendship had been through enough over the years he hadn't once questioned her when she returned home very much unmarried and she appreciated him not asking questions. The lack of judgement between them was one of the reasons their friendship had endured everything. Not wanting to go into it, Cailin gave Gabby a look and said, "so just what is this thing between you and Matty-boy?"

Gabby laughed at the nickname, a slight flush climbing up her neck. "It's complicated."

"Welcome to life, Gabriela Dawson," Cailin retorted, cocking an eyebrow and waiting.

Gabby drained her wine, pouring more. "We sort of had this thing that wasn't a thing and then I kinda hooked up with Peter and Hallie was in and out of Matt's life and then, well you know, and I didn't want to push but then I keep helping him with the Darden boys but there was this whole Jay thing…" she trailed off.

"Point the first, WAS this whole Jay thing. Point the second, you hooked up with Peter the puppy Mills? Girl, did you destroy him?" Cailin tried to wrap her head around that bit of information.

"Oh, Mills can hold his own," Gabby said, topping off Cailin's glass. She studied Cailin for a long beat, almost to the point of discomfort before coming out with, "so did you and Matt ever have a thing?"

Cailin set down her glass, rubbing her temples, "I should have known that was coming. Look, Matt and I have been friends since we were in diapers and because of our last names we sat beside each other through high school. Not to mention he spent A LOT of time at our house, before and after his parents divorce. After his mom went to jail, he practically lived in my brothers' room. He is like family, end of story."

Gabby pursed her lips, debating. "That doesn't really answer my question, Cal."

"Sure you aren't the detective?" Cailin asked with a laugh, picking back up her wine. "I promise you there is zippy attraction between us."

"But?" Gabby kept at it, a dog playing tug-of-war.

"There may have been a night after his mom's sentencing that involved crashing my parents' liquor cabinet that we swore to never speak of again…" she trailed off, scratching behind her ear. She didn't want to renege on their practical blood oath, but Gabby should probably know the truth if there was a hope of them all remaining friends. "We have have attempted to swipe our V-cards," Cailin said more to her wine than to Gabby. Gabby's eyes grew impossibly wide, causing Cailin to put down her wine glass and wave her hands in front of her, "l said attempted not did. We are clearly incompatible in that arena, not even playing the same sport. It was comically awful." She realized what that sounded like, "I don't mean he's awful. Crap, I mean, I don't know if he is awful, I doubt he is, given his conque-," she growled, "I am just going to shut the hell up and wait for you to kick me out." Cailin turned the same red as Gabby's sofa.

To her amazement, Gabby started laughing. "Oh my god, this is the best ever. I am going to own Matt with this. I am so very glad we are friends, Cailin Callahan."

"Awesome," Cailin replied, clinking her glass towards Gabby's outstretched one, completely confused.

"Speaking of things," Gabby said once she stopped laughing. She truly was amused by Cailin's story, as it assuaged many of the concerns Gabby had about the two lifelong friends. Cally's response was so flustered and innocent, it couldn't be anything but genuine. Not to mention Matt seemed equally stalwart in his assertion that the two of them would never be anything more than friends. "What is going on between you and Mr. Simmering Rage?"

"Say who?" Cailin asked.

"Clarke. It may or may not have been noticed, at least by the two women in the firehouse, that he seems to have removed a certain wedding ring and even Otis mentioned you showing up to meet him at Molly's."

Cailin's blush returned with a vengeance. "Crap," she said, dumping the rest of the bottle in her glass.

"Why crap?" Gabby said, curling up in the corner, trying to seem non-threatening. She didn't want to feel like she was friend-cheating on Leslie, but since the Darryl thing, Leslie had withdrawn and Gabby craved having someone to talk to. Even though Leslie liked women, she still understood Gabby far better than any of the guys of 51; Gabby just didn't trust her for fashion advice.

Cailin shook out her hair, trying to formulate coherent words. "Crap because I came home because I wanted to get away from relationship…stuff…to just focus on my job and nothing else. I kinda had a rough last year." She unconsciously rubbed at her scar. "And I kinda needed to escape."

"Clarke seems like he could be a nice escape," Gabby replied with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"Yeah, except back to that recently removed wedding ring and the, what did you call him, 'Mr. Simmering Rage' thing. I'm pretty sure we would be gasoline on a fire."

Gabby gave her a knowing look. "So there is a little something something going on."

Cailin slit her eyes. Wine and her inability to stop her growing feelings for Jeff loosened her tongue. "Maybe a little something, I don't know. There was kind of something outside Molly's the night Arthur decided to redecorate and then things got weird and now," she shrugged, "who knows." She wrinkled her nose, "sorry I had to treat you like a suspect, my stupid boss doesn't ever get the freaking memo."

Gabby gave her own shrug, "it's fine, I caught your look and Jay told me you had confronted him. I'm used to it with 'Tonio." She smiled at her friend, patting the couch cushion between them, "Hermann and Otis might need a little more convincing though."

"I'll keep that in mind," Cailin said with a sigh.

"They'll get over it," Gabby retorted, picking up the empty bottle, "you want me to open another one?"

"There is a big part of me that says yes. The one that is ignoring the fact that we both have to go to work tomorrow and I have to drive back to Mt. Greenwood."

"You really should move closer to work, Cally," Gabby pointed out.

Cailin groaned, "I am acutely aware. Do you think I enjoy living with my parents?"

"Well at least stay here tonight and if you don't have clothes in your locker, we can find something of mine to fit you."

"If you don't mind me stapling a hem!" Cailin retorted, "besides, I have half my wardrobe in my work locker, we don't have to double up at CPD."

"Yeah well, you get shot at a hell of a lot more," Gabby replied, "generally," she tacked on. "But seriously, crash out here, anytime, especially if I am on shift. It's ridiculous for you to drive across the city day in and day out."

"I may take you up on that, Dawson, and I definitely will tonight if it means more wine, what's a little hangover at work?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Gabby laughed, already getting up to get another bottle.


	11. Without Fire

**Chapter 11: Fight & Ice**

_A/N: I almost don't want to post this, as it was so emotional to write. Here's to hoping y'all don't come after me with pitchforks and torches by the end of this chapter… _

* * *

It turned out to not be the best day for a hangover; though neither woman knew it as they stayed up late talking, sipping and bonding. A large and greasy breakfast before they both headed into their respective places of work helped, though both also vowed to not repeat a multi-bottle night on a 'school night' ever again.

Even after a long shower and change into clean clothes in the locker room, Helling still gave Cailin a look as she slumped at her desk.

"Rough night, sweet cheeks?" he sneered.

Cailin glared at him, "I will shoot you, Helling, swear to god."

"Jesus, you on the rag?"

Cailin just closed her eyes before flipping through an unsolved file waiting for a call out. When her phone rang from Matt a couple of hours later, she answered it worriedly, knowing he was on shift. "What happened?" she practically shouted.

"I could ask the same thing about you and Dawson last night, she looked a little worse for the wear. She doesn't have an Irish liver, Cal," Matt teased, hoping to lighten the mood before telling his friend what he felt obligated to.

Cailin sneered, "it was just wine, I swear. Am I not allowed to have a little girl time?"

"What you do on your off time is your business, Cal," Matt said, pausing, "but we've been friends for a long time and there's something I feel like I should tell you."

Cailin wondered if the phone call had anything to do with her revelations about their adolescence the previous night. So concerned with causing strife between Gabby and Matt, she barely registered what Matt said until his waiting silence. "Hold up, his WIFE did what?" she said, wishing she wasn't in the middle of an open pen.

"She came by. I don't know what she wanted, though I can tell you Clarke didn't seem real happy to see her. Normally, I don't mess in my team's business; but normally they aren't getting close to one of the most important people in my life. I just wanted to give you a head's up, Cally." He had asked Gabby why she was looking peaked and she had revealed that besides being ticked at Shay's tardiness that she and Cal had spent some QT together the night before. Which is why when Gabby reacted strongly after asking who the red-head who had come to see Clarke was, Matt decided to call Cailin.

"Frak!" she growled, frustration and rage boiling inside her. "Now? She decided to show the hell back up NOW?" Cailin yelped, rising from her desk and going out to pace the hallway before she put her fist through her desk.

"Cal, stop freaking out, take a breath," Matt said "I said he wasn't happy with the visit. Just what all is going on between you two?"

Cailin kept pacing. "I don't know, something, nothing, damn it!" She kicked at the wall, glaring at the uniform that passed by. "Maybe something, but I sure as hell didn't expect his wife to show back up. Didn't he just cut off his freaking ring?" she hissed.

Casey simply replied, "I don't know, did he?" before noticing Boden motioning for him to move to the mess hall. "Look, Cal, I gotta go. I wasn't trying to send you into a tailspin, I just thought you should know."

"Well thanks for that little gem, Matty, this day is just totally awesome," she growled before hanging up on him.

* * *

Cailin seethed at her desk. Her anger palatable enough to keep everyone away. She wasn't enjoying the fury coursing through her; but after the exchange between her and Jeff two nights prior, she had been cautiously optimistic about, well, life in general. She wondered if this was some sort of cosmic punishment for having feelings for someone other than Jimmy, which kind of shot to hell her theory that Jeff was in her life for a reason. This is what she got for saying anything to Gabby last night, if only she had just kept it to herself. Of course Jeff would jump at the chance to have another go with his wife. He had made a vow, presumably before God and not just a judge, to honor a commitment. She was acutely aware how much loyalty and fidelity meant to anyone in the armed forces, let alone a freaking Marine. "Of all the god damned gin joints, Clarke," she muttered to herself as Belden came rushing out of his office.

"All hands on deck. There was a massive commuter train derailment. They need help with crowd control and basic first aid. Callahan, your file said you were EMR-certified, is that still true?" Cailin nodded, she had gotten trained after 9/11, not knowing what else to do as a young college student in New York.

"So you are actually good for something. Helling, get her up there now!"

"Where to, Miss Daisy?" Helling sneered in the car.

"Bite me, Helling. You do realize people are dying right now, huh?" she said, staring out the window, readying herself for what was surely a scene full of carnage and chaos.

The scene was even worse than she imagined. They pulled in behind a few patrol cars; given their proximity, Cailin was not surprised to see the only FD presence being that of 51, though she could tell they would need more help. Cailin and Helling had only helped corral a few of the least injured when the over-turned tanker in the distance exploded into flames. She continued to help the walking wounded to move away from the accident scene, observing as the only medic reinforcement from Lakeshore pulled up in his Mercedes and squared off with Gabby. Cailin bit her lip at a smile as her friend held her own, though she took in Leslie's detached stare with a sense of knowing. As more patrol cars pulled up, she told Helling she was heading over to the tarps to help attend to whomever her limited EMR knowledge could help.

* * *

She was two tarps away when she saw Clarke and Severide carrying some guy up. She to overhear the conversation as she bandaged a wound. Doctor Lakeshore was trying to punt the guy over to the black tarp but Clarke was protesting. This is what got her attention, her heart swelling as Gabby asserted herself yet again. Her eyes barely caught Clarke's before he was running back toward the scattered cars and tanker fire. Cailin turned her attention back to the wounded, not even realizing the warehouse roof had caved in with Boden and Mills inside until the Chief's call for evacuation came over the common radio channel. She saw the guys from 51 mustering and knew from the look on their faces that they weren't going anywhere. Cailin helped to get those who were mobile away from the scene, not surprised that Helling had volunteered to help get civilians outside the evacuation perimeter. When the uniform tried to get her to join them she placed her hands on her hips and stared him down. "Does it look like I'm going anywhere, officer?" she snapped, revealing her shield and glaring at him. Anger rolled over her as she saw her fellow police officers scatter, even if they were obeying orders.

Cailin rapidly discovered that her first-aid knowledge wasn't enough, but she couldn't just walk away. She had taken a vow to protect and serve and that vow hadn't clarified under what conditions. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shay standing over the man Clarke and Severide had carried out, arguing with the trauma Doc. He shooed her away before standing over the body for a long moment.

Something about his gaze made Cailin move closer, close enough to catch the dog tags around the wounded man's neck. Suddenly it made more sense. She moved in, ignoring the stare of the doctor. She lifted the tags, noting their black color and squinted to read, "Westin, B. SSN, A negative, 75th Ranger Reg." She sat back on her heels, the world going black at the edges. Of course he was. She closed her eyes, trying to keep focused, trying to not lose her breakfast on the grass. She opened them to find the doctor tearing off Westin's red tag, leaving only the black remaining. "Expectant," she breathed, something in her snapping.

Before she knew what she was doing, Cailin was on her feet, her hand pulling her service weapon from her holster, her finger wrapped around the trigger. "I suggest you re-think that course of treatment, doctor," she snarled, her voice seeming to come from outside of her.

Doctor Arata straightened, looking the young woman before him in the eye. He took in her thousand-yard stare, the tightness in her jaw, the slight tremble in her hands, the hollowness of her voice. He nodded knowingly, mistaking her reaction as that of a combat vet. He put his hands up, slowly. "I'm sorry, detective," he said, glancing at her badge, "there is nothing I can do."

"You can keep trying. You said you were Chief of Trauma, so rally, now!" Cailin demanded, her gun still aimed at him.

"Detective!" came a roar from behind Cailin.

"Helling," she said between clenched teeth after looking over her shoulder.

"A word, NOW!" he bellowed.

It was enough to bring her back to reality. She hastily holstered her weapon, backing away, keeping her eye on Westin. As soon as she turned to face Helling, she saw Arata moving the Vet to the black tarp. She jerked as if to confront him again, but Helling clamped down on her arms. "What the hell was that, Callahan? Did you just pull your weapon on a doctor assisting at a scene? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"He wasn't helping him, he could have-" Cailin started.

"Bullshit, that guy is already a slab of meat, Callahan, and no amount of threatening was going to change that. Not to mention putting a bullet in the only guy on scene with a medical degree ain't exactly a wise career move. So back to my question, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"He's a Ranger," Cailin said, trying to explain, the world tilting and spinning rapidly again. She put her hands up to her head, seeing Clarke tear towards Westin, clutching the man's hand as he set down his helmet. She knew that wasn't a good sign. Helling kept yelling at her, but it was all white noise. She closed her eyes, flooded with the memory of Jimmy's face as he bled out, her blood mixing with his on the green tiles…it was the last thing she saw before she fell to the ground.

Cailin came to only when their assigned car pulled up to the precinct, supine in the back seat. She looked around wildly, taking in the anger coming off Helling.

"I suggest you get the hell out of my face. Don't think I'm going to cover for you with Belden over your little stunt today, Callahan, I'm not going to work with a loose cannon."

Cailin nodded, the weight of her actions pushing down on her. She barely remembered making it home, ignoring her mother and falling into bed still in her bloodied clothes.

Cailin arrived at the precinct well before her shift the next morning, ready to face the music. It wasn't long before Belden arrived, taking in her form sitting at her desk with a stack of cold case files.

"Callahan, my office, now," he said through a clenched jaw.

Cailin stood stock-still while he raged, not saying anything, not having anything to say. She couldn't justify her actions, she wasn't about to tell her boss that between whatever was going on between her and Clarke and then seeing the Ranger dying at her feet, she just broke. Only when Belden held his hand out across his desk did it register.

"Gun and badge, now. One month suspension and the full psych clearance I should have made you get before. I don't care what you went through for the NYPD, Callahan, I will not have my detectives going off half-cocked!"

She placed her gun on the desk, running her fingers over her shield before placing it beside the gun. Just like before she immediately felt powerless, naked, vulnerable. But at least she wasn't fired.

"Get out of my department, now!" Belden ordered, pointing towards the exit.

* * *

Somehow she made it out of the precinct, wandering, not really seeing anything. She looked up, barely registering she was in front of 51, not sure whom she was seeking out. She stood in the bay door, frozen. Severide saw her first, unsure who to get, thinking she might need a medic; but as he saw her waver and then close down, the light in her eyes gone, he just knew he needed to find Clarke.

Clarke's head shot up as soon as Severide told him to come, the concern on the other man's face clear. He followed behind before he even heard it was Cailin, somehow he already knew. He saw her standing there, eyes unfocused, jaw clenched, hand against the bay frame for support. He gave his Lieutenant a look. "Go, Clarke, there's only a few minutes left of shift anyway," Severide replied.

Clarke nodded, hoping he showed his gratitude before striding towards Cailin. "Cally," he breathed, wrapping an arm around her waist as she faltered, "I've got you, come on, let's get you air." He moved her nearly catatonic form away from the station, knowing she wouldn't want anyone to see her like this. He walked her down the drive, a few paces down, leaning her against his car. "What happened?" he asked, placing a hand gently on each of her shoulders and looking straight at her.

"I couldn't, I couldn't save him, it didn't matter, I just couldn't," she said, her eyes spilling over with hot, fat tears.

It was nearly enough to break him, even though Clarke didn't know if she was talking about Westin or Jimmy Doyle. Without caring about her reaction, he pulled her to his chest, rubbing her back. "Just let it out, Cal, I've got you."

She sobbed into his chest for a minute, clutching at his shirt as though it were a lifeline; his scent of sweat, smoke and adrenaline the only thing keeping her tethered to the present. "They took my gun and badge," she said, pulling back from him, wiping away her tears, angry and embarrassed.

"Cally, I'm sorry," Clarke started, still holding on to her.

She wriggled out of his arms. "Just for a month, better than I deserved. I guess it is the one upside to everyone expecting you to breakdown; when you actually do, the consequences aren't as bad."

He could tell she was shutting down again, her voice taking on that echoing quality. "Cal, look at me. You overreacted, but you didn't actually hurt anyone," he said.

"I pulled my gun on a doctor, Jeff! How the hell was that supposed to help Westin? Or anyone else there? I am a god damned mess and everyone knows it." She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, wishing that when she let up she would be somewhere else, someone else.

"Nobody can fault you for being loyal, Cailin," Clarke replied, refusing to step back even a hair, his body only a whisper away from hers, heat radiating from them both.

Cailin jerked her head, looking up at him with eyes that were nearly translucent in their anger, "so what, then nobody can blame you either?"

He looked at her, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. He took the smallest of steps back, still confused. "What is that supposed to mean, Cal?"

"It means, Clarke," she replied, almost spitting out his last name, "that I know what kind of man you are, inside and out. I was married to a man like you, remember. Sua sponte, semper fi, memo reside; they all harken back to the same thing: you aren't going to leave a mission uncompleted no matter the casualties. Acceptable loss, right?"

He studied her, trying desperately to figure out what she was talking about, knowing there was no way to quell the storm raging within her. "Cailin, please, tell me what you mean," he begged.

"Matt called me after Lisa came by." She swallowed, the other woman's name burning her throat. "I don't care what kind of connection we have, Jeff. You were her's first, and she yours. You won't be able to let that go. Same reason I would bet you had divorce papers signed months ago, but never bothered to file them." The look on his face confirmed her belief.

"I've lived through that little adventure once before, remember? Despite seeing all the chaos, evil and destruction, still clinging to that hope. You're not the type to walk away from your vows, no matter how much we," she gestured between them, "fit. I can't compete with who you are at your core, Jeff, " she put her hands up as he tried to reach out to her again. "I'm already fractured enough, don't expect me to let you break me completely. Go back to Lisa, Jeff, she's your wife."

Clarke stood there, completely stunned by her words. Frozen in place, unable to even reach out for her as she slipped away. By then, the rest of 51 had come spilling out of the station, so he didn't want to call after her. He got in his car, driving away, her words like arrows to his heart. The problem with them was how true they rang. He hadn't told her about the papers, but she knew; he lived each of the mottos that rolled off her tongue. And even just weeks ago, part of him had still been clutching to the hope that he could make his marriage work. Honor, loyalty, faithfulness; they were as much a part of him as his blood and flesh.

Watching Westin die yesterday had brought so many memories back, seeing Cailin scatter like ash hadn't helped. He didn't know who she had watched die on that tarp, didn't know if he or anyone could reach her. He wanted to, fiercely; but she was shutting him out, her walls and armor impenetrable. Yes, they did fit, two sides of the same coin; an undeniable thread connecting them…but he had made vows and Lisa had shown up; seeming like she actually wanted to try, something she had never done before. What kind of husband, what kind of man was he if he didn't at least try?

* * *

_A/N: I did warn y'all! Basically I was at a loss as to how Jeff would have ended up at Lisa's door despite everything I had already written about him and Cailin (and with how I wanted things to go post-Lisa) and this is what happened. Because my plot bunny is pure evil. Let me know if it worked and have no fear, their bond is far from broken! _


	12. Ring of Fire

**Chapter 12: Ring of Fire**

_A/N: Whew, so glad y'all don't hate me and are still reading. Couple of character heavy chapters, but I felt like insight was needed. There is so good stuff coming up, promise! Thanks to all of my readers, especially my faithful reviewers/PM-ers!_

* * *

Cailin drove aimlessly around for a while, with no badge, gun or purpose to guide her. She vacillated between a zombie-like state similar to what she had been like those first dark days in NY Pres and feeling like every nerve ending in her body was on fire. She debated going home, curling up in her bed and drinking herself into oblivion, but she doubted her mother would support that plan. She crisscrossed the outskirts of the city, avoiding the area where the train had derailed yesterday, unable to even contemplate being still. She wanted to rip off her own skin, furious at herself for telling Jeff to go back to Lisa, knowing he most likely would. Cailin hadn't been lying when she said she knew what he was thinking, who he was at his core. Jimmy had been the same way with Penny and she hadn't ever bothered to come back and ask for another go at it. She knew if Jeff didn't try, there would always be that question hanging over him; he would always count it as a mark against his character and eventually would hold it against her for being the thing in the way. She could handle not having him far more than she could handle him resenting her. And unlike Jimmy, Jeff wasn't dead, just married. There was little Cailin wouldn't give to have had an actual marriage with Jimmy, not just a scant 72 hours before she went undercover. Except that would never happen. Jimmy was dead, she was barely alive and she had just forced the only glimmer of hope in her life back to his wife. She wheeled the truck over to the side of the road, letting out a scream like a wounded animal. This was all the exact opposite of what she had sought when she decided to return home.

Clarke sat in his car in front of his old building, staring up at the windows that he had once called home. Cailin's words were echoing in his head, 'sua sponte, semper fi, memo reside; you aren't going to leave a mission uncompleted…you're not the type to walk away from your vows...I'm already fractured enough, don't expect me to let you break me completely…go back to Lisa, she's your wife.' Her tone acerbic as she said the last word, her expression that of a shattered soul. The heft of her words, of their truth, pressing down on him threatening to crush him as well. Holding the hand of another solider as he died, another one he had to leave behind, not making the save; it crippled him, nearly as much as his lingering feeling that he already had broken Cailin completely. Some Marine he was, struggling with all three core values: honor, courage and commitment. It didn't matter what choices Lisa had made, she had to live with those. He, he had to live with his and no matter what connection he felt to Cailin, he made a commitment and he needed to follow through. He set his jaw; adapt and overcome, right? He entered the building, knocking on the door that once was his; apologizing as soon as Lisa opened the door, not so much to her, more to himself and to Cailin.

* * *

Unsure of where else to go, Cailin found herself walking into Molly's sometime after lunch, but still too early for anyone not a retired old drunk. A point driven home by the fact that it was practically empty inside except for two decrepit old men seated at the far end of the bar, watching soccer on the television set above them. Gabby was taking inventory, Hermann hauling boxes, Otis and his cousin nowhere around. They both turned to look at her, neither having seen her when she showed up at the station; though Kelly had told Matt who told Gabby before going to pick up Heather Darden on her release. He had wanted Gabby to check in with Cal, not entirely sure what had happened, Kelly distracted by his father's arrival at the station. Gabby had tried to call her friend a couple of times, but it had gone straight to voice mail and then the distributor arrived and she had gotten distracted. Now here Cailin was, looking disheveled and like she had seen a ghost. She stood hesitantly between two bar stools, her jaw quivering. Hermann booked it down to the other end of the bar to tend to the two regulars, leaving Gabby to deal with the woman who looked like she was about to fall apart at any second. Cailin wasn't though; there was nothing left in her, the hollowness a welcome replacement of any remaining feelings. She took a deep breath, sitting on a stool and looking square at her friend's concerned brown eyes. "I need a drink, a stiff one, and I don't suppose you are hiring?"

Gabby immediately poured her a large glass of amber liquid, bringing it around the bar to sit on the stool next to Cailin to get the story. Hermann kept looking down at them, but kept his distance. He guessed Cailin's haggard appearance probably had something to do with Clarke's wife popping back up the morning before, but he also figured it was more than that. If there was anything he had learned in almost twenty years of marriage, it was there was never just one thing with women. It didn't stop him from feeling bad for the pretty blonde friend of Casey's, he had pieced together that she had come back home after a pretty rough go of it in New York and he figured she wasn't as tough as she pretended to be. "How did I miss you pulling your gun, Cally?" Gabby yelped.

Cailin shrugged, "you were a little busy, and it really wasn't for that long before Helling yanked me back." She shook her head, "I'll be fine, I deserved it, more than just a month's suspension if we're being honest. Though I'm guessing if I get hurt, I probably shouldn't go to Lakeshore." She sighed and took a long drink.

"Uh-huh, so what else is going on? Antonio has done some pretty stupid stuff over the years and he has never looked like this after getting put in the penalty box."

"Thanks, Gabby," Cailin retorted, drumming her fingers on the bar, wondering how much she should say. Of course half of the station had seen Lisa drop by and if, when, she corrected, Jeff got back with her, it wasn't like he was going to hide it. "I kinda shoved Jeff back at his should-be ex-wife," she admitted, looking down into her glass, wishing it would swallow her.

Gabby's eyes grew even wider than normal, "and he went? Really?"

"He's a Marine!" she argued.

"Uno tonto de remate," Gabby muttered under her breath, feeling like she needed a drink. She had talked to both Leslie and Matt about the current that was practically visible between Cally and Clarke, wife or no wife. She had even been relieved when she saw Capp cutting off Clarke's ring. Both of them seemed like they could use someone to lean on though neither seemed likely to admit needing any support, their being drawn to each other almost seemed like fate. She shook her head sadly, "I'm so sorry, Cally."

Cailin drained her glass, "I'm good, or at least I will be if I can hide out here?"

Gabby laughed, "of course, though we will put you to work and the pay is crap."

"There is no pay," Hermann yelled from his spot at the other end of the bar.

Cailin curled her lip, "I am stuck living with my parents forever."

* * *

Despite having Molly's as a hideout to avoid explaining to her mother while she wasn't at work, Cailin still found herself sinking deeper and deeper into the same darkness that had nearly swallowed her whole back in New York. The nightmares increased with a vengeance, her appetite disappeared, she jumped at the smallest of sounds or movement, she walked around either like a zombie or on high-alert. She would spend hours staring at her phone, willing it to ring but unwilling to call Clarke, worried his wife would answer. She avoided going by 51, even though it meant not seeing Matt or any of her other friends unless she saw them at Molly's. Where Otis' cousin, Zoya, gave her a more than chilly reception, worried her hours would get cut or that Cailin would elbow in on her tips. Cailin tried to explain that she was merely seeking something to do with her time, but there was either a language barrier or just plain resentment at another blonde behind the bar.

Cailin's family noticed her back slide, how she suddenly seemed worse off than she had six months before. Connor and Colin knew she had been at the train derailment, but hadn't heard about her suspension; Matt urged Cole to talk to her, but she brushed him off and Cullen and Cam were thankfully MIA. Her mother had tried to make her talk a couple of times, but Cailin dug in her heels with full Callahan stubbornness. The OT seemed to have stopped helping halt the progress of her father's dementia, which Cailin should have felt bad about, but since it kept her mother distracted it was actually helpful to her.

She spent most of her time completely detached and observing, as if floating above everyone else; the lights dimmed in her eyes to near darkness. She had gone to her required psych appointments, giving them her New York file and sitting in silence while they read it while trying to not react. She didn't try to justify or explain her pulling her weapon on Arata, merely shrugging and saying, "guess I should have stayed on my meds." Part of her knew she should at least pretend to play the game, pretend to feel remorse, pretend to work on healing; but that meant feeling and if she let one iota of emotion in…the only place she felt was her dreams; Jimmy and Jeff recurring guest stars she couldn't shut out of her heart despite her best efforts. Cailin knew eventually she would end up in the same space as Clarke and thus, she put all her remaining energy into erecting an impervious barrier around any feeling that may still be lurking in the shadows of her heart.

Except the second he stepped into Molly's that night, Cailin nearly crumbled on the spot. Nearly two weeks had passed with her avoiding him, by either luck or divine intervention. Cailin dropped the glass she was drying as soon as Clarke opened the door, it shattering on the concrete floor. She immediately dropped to sweep up the mess and escape his notice. She heard Hermann greet him, a note of surprise in his tone. Clarke's voice seemed to reverberate through the air, it's low, controlled timbre saying so much more than his words. Cailin knew that by his careful attempt at control that he was feeling very much not in control.

Her heart seized as she heard him say, "decided it would be better to come here. Sometimes you got to step away from a situation before it goes bad. You know what I mean?" She stayed kneeling on the floor, closing her eyes, trying to not analyze every syllable he spoke.

"You okay?" Zoya asked, looking at her like she was crazy. Cailin let out a slow stream of air, wishing she could sweep herself up with the glass. She heard Hermann reply to Clarke, "alright, well I'm glad you came here then, can't have you stepping out of line." Cailin realized Gabby had come down and was peering over the bar, thinking she needed help. Cailin knew she couldn't stay hiding on the floor behind the bar all night. "You did this to yourself, Callahan, buck up," she muttered to herself, slowly rising and giving her friend a look.

"You can take off," Gabby said, trying to give her friend an out, knowing Cally was holding on by a thread. Cailin shook her head, knowing how small a city it really was, especially in first responder land.

* * *

Clarke had stopped, his hand on the doorknob to Molly's forcing himself to go in. When he had come home in the middle of shift, thinking he was being the doting husband and had instead found Hayes in the middle of his- her-he corrected, place, he had almost detonated on the spot. He didn't for one second believe the other man was just there seeking money owed to him; the guilt clear on Lisa's face, a look he had seen plenty of times before. Two weeks, he had only been back for two weeks and she couldn't even- He felt the pressure building, filling his every cell with fury and resentment. Lisa's pleas had been empty, devoid of any genuineness; he should have known. He wondered, not for the first time, if she hadn't somehow heard about Cailin; if it hadn't been jealousy that brought Lisa to 51 that day. He forced the rage down, stuffing it deep into a corner of his mind, locking it away. He threw a couple of extra changes of clothing into his duffle bag, grateful he still had his other place until the end of the month, and headed to Molly's. He knew there was a possibility Cailin might be there, knowing some part of him was hoping she would be even if she had been the one to demand he go back to his wife; Lisa, he corrected again, they were married on paper but she was not a wife.

Cailin returned to drying the glasses and serving the couple of guys at the far end of the bar, happy none of them were from her precinct. Zoya was deep in conversation with Cruz, who looked like he was having a worse time of it then she was. Given what she had heard about Cruz's brother and a shooting and Voight somehow being involved, Cailin was glad she wasn't on the job. She pulled a couple of pints, purposely avoiding looking at where Clarke stood at the opposite end of the bar, keeping herself busy and as far away as possible. Until all of a sudden Joe Cruz decided to drop to one knee and proposed to the green-card challenged Zoya, who squealed in delight, calling her cousin over. "You are freaking kidding me," Cailin muttered to herself as the trio also wandered over, Cruz refiling everyone's glasses from the bottle Zoya had left on the bar. Under better circumstances, Cailin supposed she would be happy for the often down on his luck Cruz, but these were definitely not better circumstances.

Clarke had seen Cailin immediately, the air in the bar sucked in her direction as soon as he stepped inside. He thought he had heard breaking glass before seeing her duck down, but Hermann's greeting committee prevented him from proceeding in her direction, which was probably for the best. He had been honest in his reasoning for coming, even if it wasn't the entire story and it seemed enough to appease his friend. He noticed Dawson silently slip away to check on the still suddenly invisible Cally, though she quickly returned and refused to make eye contact with him. He made small-talk, sipping on the beer given to him, avoiding staring at Cailin as he could tell she was doing the same, a magnetic pull coming from her end of the bar. He barely registered the commotion, Cruz sitting, flirting with Otis' cousin. Then he realized Hermann and Dawson walking in that direction and the already drawn looking Cailin now looked like she had just eaten glass. It was only after Cruz hoisted the bottle in the air proclaiming he was getting married that Clarke realized what Cailin just had a front-row seat for. He followed behind, joining in the congratulations, looking at Cailin from the corner of his eye. As soon as the commotion died down, he pulled out a bar stool down where she was savagely slicing bar fruit. "What did that lemon do to you, do I need to kick its ass?" he joked, sitting down directly in front of her, his gaze falling squarely upon hers, feeling the air crackle around them.

Cailin smirked at his teasing, kicking herself for doing so, for not keeping up the barriers. "It was just minding its own business, haven't you heard about my excessive force complaints?" she replied, raising an eyebrow at him. "Surprised to see you here," she said, not quite digging into him but not quite being friendly either.

"Better company," Clarke retorted, not looking away, hoping to make it clear that he meant her.

She snorted, packing up the lemons she had finished cutting, "always a good time down here at Molly's," she said with a sigh, pouring a healthy shot and knocking it back.

Clarke's eyes followed her movement, unable to tell how many time she had repeated this action tonight. It had only been a couple of weeks since he had seen her, but it seemed so much was different about her. She had lost weight she hadn't needed to, her eyes had the dark-circles of someone not sleeping, her hair pulled back without even a hint of trying to hide her scar, and she looked…lost. He knew the feeling. "Cailin," he said softly.

"Clarke," she retorted, her jaw tightening, not returning the use of his first name telling him she was erecting a wall between them. It did nothing to sever the connection or make the air stop crackling around them. Cailin had to force herself to not ask where Lisa was, knowing the woman's name would come out in a hiss and her bitterness would be clear to anyone in a ten-mile radius. Why the hell had she told him to go back to her? Why had he actually done it? Even though she knew the answer to both of the questions, it didn't stop the sting of reality. Except Clarke didn't look at all like someone who was undergoing a happy reunification.

"Alright, you crazy kids," Hermann announced coming up behind Cruz and Zoya making out against the bar, "time to get a room, last call." Cailin looked around realizing Gabby had already left, as had the regulars.

Hermann then looked from Callahan to Clarke, sensing they had more than a little unfinished business, despite Clarke's earlier proclamation that things were going well at home. "Why don't you take off, Callahan, ain't like you're getting paid anyway." Cailin just nodded, stooping to gather her things as Hermann gestured at Clarke with his chin; surprising himself. The happily married man was rooting for Clarke's second chance, but he was starting to think that maybe it wasn't the best idea for anyone involved.

Cailin ducked under the bar, Clarke appearing beside her saying, "I'll walk you out." Cailin opened her mouth to argue, but found she couldn't form the words. Despite trying to shut everything down inside her over the past two weeks, she had desperately missed him, felt like part of her had left the day she told him to make another go of it with his wife. She closed her mouth, giving him a small shrug and walked through the door he held open for her.

Clarke walked beside her to where she had silently pointed out her truck, his hands deep in his pockets, the night air crisp and cold around them. He noticed her shivering in her light jacket, as if she hadn't been paying attention to the change in weather. They arrived beside the truck and she muttered a word of thanks before rummaging through her bag for the keys. He cleared his throat, unable to just let her drive off. "Cally, just, don't," he pleaded, pulling a hand out of his pocket and reaching out as though he was going to touch her. She shied away but still didn't unlock her truck. "Can we go get a coffee or something?"

Cailin took a deep breath, working her jaw before saying, "I gotta get back down to Greenwood." She figured this indisputable fact would appease him.

"We can get coffee down there then, I'll follow you," he said, gesturing to his car.

Cailin bit back any of her sarcastic retorts to the contrary, realizing his eyes mirrored the same barely veiled agony as her own. "Fine, one coffee," she said, giving him more hope in three words than he had in the two weeks back with Lisa.


	13. Irons in the Fire

**Chapter 13: Play with Fire**

* * *

Clarke pulled up to the all-night restaurant beside Cailin, trying to keep his pulse rate and hopes down. He kept wondering why he had been so quick to let Cailin push him away; so willing to go back to Lisa, even though she clearly wasn't about to remain faithful to him. Except the saying was true, once a Marine always a Marine. He gripped his steering wheel, frustrated at himself. He noticed Cailin standing next to his window, waiting, her jaw set. He hoped she wasn't regretting agreeing to the coffee. He let out a long breath, exiting the car and giving her a slight smile, hoping she would return it. She didn't. He followed her wordlessly into the restaurant, the late hour meaning it was mostly empty, pleased when Cailin picked a booth far away from the few other patrons. "We really do need to get you out more," he teased, as she looked at her hand in disgust as it landed in something sticky on the table after the waiter put their coffees down, "to nicer places."

"I'm suspended without pay and working for free at Molly's while living with my parents, what part of that says I'm flush with cash, Clarke?" she shot back, wincing at the harshness of her tone. She may have shoved him away, but she knew better than to cut him out of her life, not if she wanted to keep afloat. That much clear in the past two weeks. His innate understanding and acceptance of her, fractures and all, was something she knew she should hold on to; even if he was also holding on to Lisa.

"Who said you were paying?" he replied, his eyes widening even as he said the words. He couldn't really be flirting with another woman two weeks after 'moving back in' with his wife, could he? His wife who was still carrying on with another guy, he reminded himself. Plus, it wasn't entirely flirting, more desperately wanting to spend any amount of time with the haunted woman sitting across from him; craving her company and the serenity just being next to her brought him. That was worth his entire paycheck and then some.

Cailin debated her reply, trying to discern if he was flirting or suggesting she start dating. There didn't seem to be an appropriate way to respond, so she didn't. Instead she decided to dive in to what had irked her since the moment she heard his voice in the bar. "What did she do, Jeff?" she asked quietly, looking at him, not with pity, but with supreme concern and empathy.

The question hit him hard, as did the look in her eyes, as if she had shut down her pain only to carry his. Clarke shook his head, cleared his throat. "Nothing I can't handle."

"That wasn't what I asked, soldier," she countered, "but I'm not prying. It is your business, not mine." Her expression and tone both territorial and regretful. As though she would make it her business if Lisa had hurt him and like she was blaming herself for putting him in the position to be hurt.

Clarke had to damp the urge to pull her out of the booth, the restaurant, the damn city and have them just disappear to someplace else where their pasts couldn't follow. Except he knew the past always followed. "You were right, Cal, you do know me at my core. I have trouble accepting a failed mission, not making the save. There is a code, I try to live by it, to honor my commitments." He wrapped his hands around his mug, hoping he wasn't going to crush it. He sat, lost in thought but still acutely aware of Cailin across from him.

"Some missions will always fail, some people can't be saved, Jeff," she replied after they sat in silence for a long time. She looked at him so intensely he almost leaned back, finishing with, "and with some commitments, you can't be the only one doing the honoring."

It was clear to Clarke that she knew, instinctively, that Lisa hadn't changed, didn't really want him back, just wanted to win. Just as she struggled herself with not making the save with Jimmy and was refusing to forgive herself. It was also clear that she wasn't going to push, that she didn't have any fight in her, that in his going back to Lisa he had extinguished the tiny glimmer of hope that had started to grow between them. "How long are we going to keep punishing ourselves, Cailin?"

She drained her coffee, heavily setting the mug back down, letting him know the one coffee was up. She stood, giving him another penetrating stare. "As long as it takes. Thanks for the coffee. See you around, Clarke." Cailin strode toward the exit with a purpose and without a backwards glance.

* * *

Cailin's words sat heavy on Clarke, more so than Lisa's actions. He was haunted by them, by her, every time he closed his eyes, every time he wasn't focused on the job or something concrete. He had wanted to run after her as she left the restaurant, but he stayed glued to his spot, everything going dark around him.

He didn't go back to Lisa's before his next shift, the anger still growing. At Lisa for sending Hayes mixed signals, at Cailin for knowing him at his core, at himself for not being able to bail out when he knew he should. At both himself and Cailin for continuing to punished themselves for things that were not their faults. The anger spilled over on the job, something that made him even angrier, practically taking Hermann's head off after the man had simply shoved him out-of-the-way of a metal door hurtling his way. He had gone to try to apologize, ending up unburdening himself to the other man far more than he normally would. The man's words eerily echoed how he felt about his current circumstances, and Clarke was betting Hermann was far smarter than his attempt to study for the Lieutenant's exam let on. He also couldn't help but wonder how much Hermann had seen since Cailin was working at Molly's, after hinting at the fact that he was beginning to think Cailin should just start sleeping behind the bar, spending most of her time there. Clarke had a feeling that things would come to a head soon, one way or another.

Cailin felt herself slipping away, a little piece at a time. Wondering why she had agreed to the coffee with Clarke, it crushed her spirit even more to sit across from him only to hear that he was giving himself to someone who was hell-bent on hurting him. She found herself drinking too much, more passing out at Gabby's than sleeping. Of course her two friends hooking up hadn't helped matters. Nor was being forced to keep their dalliances a secret. Yes, she wanted them happy and just a couple of weeks ago would have locked the two of them in a room together if she thought it would help them to finally acknowledge their feelings for each other. But that was before.

Cailin was also practically counting the seconds until her suspension was over, she wanted to feel useful and in control of something again. Something more than just helping Severide look for Shay. She wondered if she shouldn't reach out to the other haunted woman, but what position was she in to dole out advice on anything other than the best way to fool staff psych into not ordering additional sessions? Cailin hoped the surprise graduation party she had helped Kelly set up for Katie went better than the fruitless search for Shay. Some detective she was, At least Gabby had tracked her down.

* * *

Cailin had just finished affixing the banner bearing Katie's name over the bar when the invited guests started to arrive. Sure, most of them were from or friends of 51; but she had managed to track down a few of Katie's actual friends, at least giving hope that her detective skills weren't dead as she felt.

"If you break your neck, I'm not paying the medical bills, Callahan," Hermann admonished, as Cailin perched on top of a crate on top of the bar.

"I should be so lucky," she muttered, before turning to glare at him. "I'm fine, Hermann," she hissed before catching sight of Clarke's form coming in one of the groups that had just entered the bar. Thankfully, Severide had invited all his crew, so she hadn't had to invite him directly, but she should have known he would be here. Well, she couldn't hide now, considering she was standing between the guests and the liquor they were here to drink. She could feel Clarke's eyes settle on her as she jumped down off the bar, the intensity nearly pinning her in place. She shook her head and smoothed her hair back. "I'm going to make up a batch of those fruity drinks Katie likes, they should be here soon," she said, rushing to the far end of the bar, away from the guests.

She wasn't sure if she moved down there to hide or was hoping Clarke would choose to come down there. Not that she had any reason to hope; he had chosen Lisa, despite her obvious struggle with fidelity. Even if Cailin knew he would go back to her, part of her still had clung to the stupid hope. She shook the shaker full of the noxious pink drink, trying to relieve the pressure building inside her. She had to let it go, let her feelings for Clarke go. A connection was one thing, a friendship, even; but she had to kill the attraction. Cailin Callahan was not a home wrecker, she had denied making a move on Jimmy for years because of Penny; denied them both so much in knowing Jimmy needed to be true to his commitments. Colin was the philanderer in the Callahan family, stepping out on poor plain Anna so many times it was laughable. And she guessed theoretically Cullen was cheating on his vows with God and the Church, but somehow that didn't seem as bad…

Cailin was so lost in her musings she didn't realize Clarke had in fact separated from the rest of the group and was standing in front of her. "Did you do all this," Clarke asked, removing his hand from his pocket to gesture.

Cailin nodded, unable to speak, her mouth as dry as a desert, her heart pounding rapidly and that stupid attracting zinging through every nerved ending in her body. Why had she agreed to that stupid coffee? "How did you guess?" she finally spit out after taking a long drink of beer.

Clarke studied her, as he had been since walking in. He debated politely refusing the invitation when Severide extended it but the other man seemed so proud of his newfound little sister, he couldn't resist. He was also trying his best to fully integrate himself in the team; knowing he needed their support for whatever the hell was happening with Lisa and that jerk, actually he needed their support for life, both on and off calls. He had noticed the change in her as soon as she spotted him, as if her very atoms were rearranging themselves, readying her armor for battle. Which only served to chink his own armor more, frustrated that he was causing her more pain instead of alleviating it. He was still kicking himself for not chasing after her when she ran out of the restaurant after coffee. Well, that wasn't the only thing he was kicking himself for, but it was the most recent. He stuck his hands back in his pockets, looking around with a half-shrug. "Didn't see Dawson around, couldn't have been Otis or Hermann and whats her face doesn't seem like the type to volunteer."

Cailin poured out the shaker, adding a tiny pink umbrella to the drink with a shudder but smiled up at Clarke's accurate summation. "Yeah, well, Kelly called and I wasn't doing anything else and I already managed to not find Shay so thought I would try to redeem myself. Suppose if I don't get clearance, I can always take up party planning."

"How's that going?" Clarke asked, trying to imagine how unbearable his life would be if he didn't have Squad.

"Eh," she said, pulling out her phone and looking at the text. "The lady of the hour is here, gotta go get this down there," she replied, walking towards the other end of the bar.

Cailin was pressed into service as soon as Katie regained her composure after being surprised. Though Cailin thought the younger woman was going to tear up again as she handed her the umbrella'd cocktail. "This is so sweet," she said sniffling. "No big deal, except everyone is going to want some complicated tiki beverage now," Cailin quipped, with a forced a smile, "but it's your graduation, so I'll let it slide," she finished with a wink. The younger woman's excitement and gratitude infectious.

Cailin did keep busy with a variety of drinks, and while she was grateful that kept her ruminating at bay, as well as Clarke, it did give her a full view of everything transpiring inside Molly's. She forced herself to not dry-heave at Miss Politico practically mounting Mills at a table, though she didn't hide her snicker at Gabby's revelations about the candidate. She shoved her pangs of jealously aside, muttering, "good for you, Mills." It also lent her a front row seat for Otis telling Severide he needed to move out, allowing her to shut Otis down as soon as he turned to look at her. "Nope, now way, would rather live with my parents until I'm 80. Heard about the bongos and the last thing I want coming home after a triple homicide is a D&D marathon happening in my living room."

Otis looked crestfallen, exacerbated by Zoya's request that her cousin do her dirty work and break up with Joe Cruz for her. Cailin furiously wiped the bar, wondering why the conversation wasn't sitting right with her. On the surface, she had to give the woman props for realizing that she was just using Cruz, but making Otis the go-between? Cailin realized what was really bothering her about the scenario, following Zoya down to the far end of the bar where she was pulling glasses out of the dishwasher. "You are going to crush him, Zoya, you do know that, right? You aren't being noble, you are about to break a man!" Cailin's voice was filled with anger, but she kept it low enough so that others would not overhear.

Zoya looked shocked. "I do right thing, not use Joe Cruz. I'm going back home even if I love this country."

"Yes, but Cruz loves you or at least he believes he does. He has been through so much, Zoya, and for you to get his hopes up and then have Otis do your dirty work? It isn't fair to anyone! You aren't being nice, you are being a coward!" Cailin realized she was mangling the bar towel in her hands, had twisted it like she was about to strangle Zoya with it.

"Hey, Callahan, Hermann wants me to grab another IPA keg out of the back, can you show me where it is?" Clarke said, seeing the scene unfolding, knowing Cailin was spinning out and trying to come up with some way to stop it before she did something she would regret. Cailin glared at the other woman, snapping her towel down and ducking underneath the bar.

Cailin strode back to the storage room, trying to stop herself from shaking. She knew she had overreacted, she had maybe said 17 sentences to Joe Cruz in the seven months she had come around 51. She didn't have any skin in the game. Deep down she knew she was telling Zoya off for a multitude of other people's sins, that the pretty piece of fluff had just been an easy target. Maybe she really was a bully. She stepped into the storage room, glancing around before it hit her. "Hermann doesn't need another keg does he?" she said, slumping down on an empty one and dropping her head to her hands.

Clarke smirked at her, "nope, just felt like you needed to pull out and needed a little help as to how."

She looked up, cocking an eyebrow. Of course he knew. "Thanks, I owe you one," she said, pulling her hair back into a bun.

"Promises, promises, Callahan. I will take you up on it," he replied, pulling over another keg and sitting beside her. "So how did you say that clearance was going again?" he asked, not looking directly at her, trying to ignore his heart rate increasing just from sitting near her.

Cailin rolled her eyes. "I know what to say, not my first rodeo, cowboy. I'll be fine. Month is up, one last session with staff psych and assuming I don't mess it up, should have my badge back next week."

He bumped his shoulder against hers, "that's good news, Cally, you should have put your name up on that banner too." He found himself smiling at her broadly.

"Yes, congratulations on not pulling a gun or beating anyone up for a whole 30 days. Where's my trophy?" she bantered back.

Clarke spoke before he could second-guess himself. "Want to get out of here, grab some food or something?"

He looked at her earnestly to make Cailin blush. "Clarke, there's a party happening out there and despite not actually getting paid, I am supposed to be working." She stood, "not on a fake keg run back here with you." She took in his downcast look. "Though I do sincerely appreciate you saving me from myself. Raincheck?" she tacked on with a small smile.

"Raincheck," Clarke firmly agreed before following her out, ignoring the curious looks some of the 51 crew gave them, it wouldn't be the first time the entire house talked about him behind his back or made false accusations. Though he knew he was playing with fire keeping close to Cailin while still trying to figure out what was happening with Lisa, he wasn't about to let her out of his life; and he was a firefighter after all.


	14. Play with Fire

**Chapter 14: Firestarter**

_A/N: I cannot express how amazing it is to get such great feedback from everyone. I was a little worried y'all might be getting fed up with Cal and Clarke not getting together. I write real and real life is messy. Hope you enjoy this installment!_

* * *

Cailin clutched the signed paper in her hand, the red stamp seeming to glow under the street lamp. The word 'cleared' with the psychologists name scrawled next to it offering so much more than seven letters. She did have to agree to monthly check-ins with a psychiatrist, but Cailin didn't care, it meant she would get her badge back tomorrow. And maybe a sense of purpose. She had definitely been floundering and she knew it, hell, everyone she came into contact with knew it. Though she put on a brave face in light of freaking McLeod finally putting 51 on the chopping block. If only her father had enough of his faculties left, she would have endearing him calling her kitten a million times to get the house saved. Connor's department separated from the rest of the administration so he couldn't do anything except a couple of phone calls. Cailin had considered going to her snake of a cousin, but her mother had warned her away from that for some reason. She had debated not even going in to Molly's to celebrate, knowing the mood would be low. Assuming anyone was even there before their last shift together, but she didn't have anywhere else to go and she felt she had earned a drink.

Three unfamiliar lugs were leaving the bar as she walked up, looking up to no good. All three leered at her, one of them making an obscene gesture as another grabbed her ass. Cailin shoved her way around them, flinging open the door as if seeking sanctuary. "Jesus Christ, tell me you kicked Huey, Dewey and Handsy out of here, Her-" she stopped in her tracks. Only Hermann, Severide and Clarke were in the bar, more than one mostly empty bottle of liquor in front of them. All of them standing while Hermann menacingly clutched a baseball bat as she flung the door open. Obviously she had missed something.

"Callahan," Hermann said, putting the bat back underneath the bar and beginning to mop up the drinks that had spilled when Clarke jumped off his bar stool.

Cailin took in Severide's hand still clamped on Clarke's shoulder, Clarke's jaw tensed so tight his veins were throbbing. "We need to attract a higher class of customers," she said, trying to cut the tension in the room.

Severide dropped his hand, shaking his head and sitting back down. Clarke still stood, vibrating with anger. Hermann watched from behind the bar. Unsure if Callahan's presence would calm Clarke or incite him further. He had a hunch that when the man said 51 had saved his life, Clarke had also been talking about the blonde detective/bartender now standing in front of them, as much a part of 51 now as any member of the FD.

Cailin locked eyes with Clarke, trying to read his thoughts, knowing the other two men in the bar were trying to not stare at them. She forced a smile, pulling the folded piece of paper out of the back pocket of her jeans. "I got my psych clearance, so I get my badge back tomorrow. Buy me a drink, cowboy?" she said, cocking her head slightly. Clarke nodded, still looking furious. "Sure," he choked out, turning back towards the bar and sliding a stool out for her.

An uneasy glance passed between Severide and Herman, the former turning toward her. "So you fooled the head shrinkers, huh?" he teased, giving her ponytail a playful tug, "congrats, Cal." "So now I've lost both blonde bartenders, great," Hermann bemoaned, trying to further lighten the mood.

Cailin could still feel the anger radiating from Clarke, desperately wanting it to dissipate. "Yeah, how was it I know I make better drinks but she got better tips?" She smirked at her statement, rolling her eyes, "oh, right, forget I asked." Hermann and Severide both laughed while Clarke just worked his jaw. She slid a glass and bottle towards her, pouring a healthy slug, "looks like I got some catching up to do."

Severide pushed back his stool, "actually, I'm going to head out, hit the hay before tomorrow."

"We all probably should," Hermann said, giving Clarke a look.

Cailin raised her eyebrows, "you want me to close up for you?"

"Nah, I got it, just get home safe, you got a big day tomorrow too," he said, looking at her pointedly.

Cailin made a noise, "yeah, I'm sure Belden and Helling will want to give me a nice warm welcome back." She stood, stretching. "Seeing as I don't get my gun back until tomorrow, walk me to my truck, Clarke? Since miscreants are hanging around." She knew he wouldn't refuse her, and he didn't, immediately rising as well. Hermann waved to them and turned around to sort out the register.

She shivered as they walked away from Molly's, both silent. "Damn it's cold, gonna be a long winter," she remarked, hoping to get something, anything from Clarke. He just nodded, a far away look in his eyes. Cailin wondered how much he had to drink and what had transpired with the trio she ran into.

She stopped, letting out a deep breath and putting her hand on his arm. "What is it, Clarke? This is more than 51 closing, you've been in other houses that closed. What was the deal with those lugs?" She saw the glint in his eye and knew. "That's him, that's the guy, Lis-"

She didn't even get the woman's name out all the way, when he turned towards her, steam practically rising off him. Cailin took in his expression, his eyes full of anger and desperation. "Jeff," she breathed, her palm finding itself against his jaw. In an instant his mouth was on hers, his tongue hot and probing before she could even think. Cailin practically fell over, but he walked them back towards a building, pressing her into the bricks, his mouth never leaving hers. His kisses were hot and desperate and tasted of whiskey, his hands tangling in her hair, freeing it from its elastic. Cailin felt herself caving under his touch, her walls crumbling to dust as he growled low in his chest.

His mouth and tongue did battle with hers as his hands fought to get inside her coat, running up her sides, electricity replacing the blood in her veins as his thumbs brushed her bare skin as he worked her sweater up. Cailin groaned against his mouth, her legs wrapping around him of their own accord; he pressed her even harder against the wall, the bricks now biting into the exposed flesh of her lower back. He turned his attention from her lips to her neck, burying himself in that tender spot between her ear and shoulder. But as he nipped gently right where her scar was, Cailin came plummeting back to reality. Back to the cold, and thankfully empty, street down from Molly's. She jerked her head away, hitting it against the wall as she did, crying out in pain and she struggled to free herself.

Her cry brought Clarke back as well. Still holding her, but loosely, setting her down and looking at her as if just waking up. "I'm sorry, Cally," he said, still gripping her arms, his voice full of regret.

"It's fine, Jeff," she said, not wanting to placate him, wishing she could erase his pain.

He dropped his hands from her arms. "No, it's not, Cailin. You deserve better. Better than me." His eyes glinted in the street lamp as he cleared his throat several times.

"I don't think you're in charge of that," she said, with a sad smile, "but I don't think you're in charge of a whole lot at this moment. Let's go get you something greasy and sober you up." She looked at him, giving her head the barest of shakes when it looked like he was going to protest. "You don't get to argue with me, Clarke, you're cashing in your rain check."

* * *

Clarke dove into his food while drinking as many glasses of water as the waitress poured. Cailin sat beside him, nursing a coffee and waiting him out. She still felt slightly disheveled from their impromptu make-out session against that building and more than a little confused. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it, she just had a feeling it had something to do with more than just her, or them. He finished eating, wiping his mouth and looking a little more grounded. "Can I get you two anything else? You want some coffee?" Tanya asked Clarke. He nodded, Cailin calling after her, "and pie." Clarke shot her a look. "What, I have a feeling I am going to need pie while you tell me what all that was about tonight and you are going to tell me."

Clarke ducked his head, feeling ashamed, though still slightly aroused as Cailin's eyes seemed to permeate his core. "That was Hayes and his good for nothing friends. He called her a whore."

Cailin sucked in a breath, angry at him for still defending her, anger at herself for being angry with him. Honorable to a fault, loyal to the core; these were traits worthy of admiration, not to get angry at. She was beyond envious, and feeling more than her fair share of hate towards Lisa. How could she not realize what she had in Jeff?

"Don't, don't say it, Cally," Clarke begged.

She closed her eyes for a beat, taking a drink of her coffee. "Not saying anything, just waiting on my-" she looked up at the arriving pie, "oh, thanks, Tanya." Cailin was glad to have something to shove in her mouth, not wanting to argue.

She slid the plate toward Clarke, who shook his head, setting aside his own mug of coffee and stretching his arms out on the table, as if reaching out to her. "She owes him money, from before." He made a face, "who knows how many people she owes money to. Assuming that is the truth. I caught him in our place a couple of weeks back in the middle of the day."

Cailin remained quiet, chewing on the apple pie until it was beyond liquified, trying to not react. Her silence paid off when Clarke continued.

Clarke was slightly amazed Cailin wasn't replying, most people were so quick to give unsolicited advice, which he hated. He could tell she was struggling to not say anything, her fork mutilating the pie with each bite she took. Her protectiveness was endearing in a way, if slightly frightening in its intensity. "I know it is ridiculous, to keep trying with someone who obviously thinks she can do whatever she wants. I get this isn't a real marriage, that she can't possibly love me or if she does, she doesn't care about me. I keep asking myself why we even bothered to get married, but my mother was dying and I wanted to make her happy and I was about to head off to the basic, shipping out after that and it just seemed like the thing to do. 12 years, 12 years, Cal, how could I waste so much time?" The last words came out strangled, with anger, frustration and grief.

Cailin reached out, putting her palms on top of his clenched fists, thinking she had earned at least that after his antics against that building. "Because it wasn't a waste to you, Jeff, you thought there was still a save. I know I'm not a firefighter, but I've heard enough stories my entire life to know. When you are in the middle of it, flames all around you, you can't see the exit, you just have to know when to go for it. And even then, most of the time you all don't, just in case you could make one more save. But like I said before, you can't be the only one making the commitment. Shouldn't a marriage be a partnership, first?" She looked at him with a slightly wry smile, "and I don't mean like Jimmy and I, that was screwed up plenty in its own way."

This brought a slight bark of laughter. "How did Jimmy find the exit?" Clarked asked, amazed as he did so, feeling like he needed to know everything about Cailin, right that instant.

Cailin gave a small shake of her head, "he didn't. Penny left, some douche hedge fund guy, moved to Connecticut. Which made her reasoning of being tired of never seeing her husband kind of moot, but whatever. Back to you though, Jeff, you asked me that night I ridiculously fled from you after coffee how long we were going to keep punishing ourselves. So how long are we?" Something about the physical connection on his now unclenched hands had opened her heart and her mouth, removed her fear and reinforced her belief that she needed Jeff Clarke in her life as much as he needed her in his.

They stayed in the diner for a couple of more hours, revealing probably too much about their pasts, until Tanya informed them she was going off shift. Cailin grimaced as she looked at her watch, it was beyond late. At least Gabby was spending the night at Matt's, planning on telling 51 about their relationship at the end of their last shift together, wanting to spend some alone time together before that. Cailin was grateful to not have to drive back to her parents, needing a sense of independence before getting her badge back.

As they walked back to where their vehicles were back by Molly's, Cailin paused, looking up at Clarke, her eyes wide and serious. "CFD is making a big mistake closing 51, and they're going to find that out quickly. I just wish my dad could have-"

"Cally, it isn't your save. Even if your dad was 100% healthy, McLeod would win, she's got a hard-on for closing us, we're toast. We'll all land on our feet, though. Who knows, maybe I'll get stuck down at 22 in your neck of the woods."

"I snuck enough guys in my window growing up, thank you very much, I'm not planning on being in the MG much longer. I did alright on tips at Molly's," she said, feeling the heat grow between them again, ignoring her urges as she remembered what time it was. She continued walking to the truck, not looking at him again until she had unlocked it. "I don't think the ball is in my court anymore, Jeff, but I don't think it should be in hers, either." With that, Cailin grabbed his leather coat, pulling him down and planting one heated kiss on him before, sliding up into the truck with her familiar, "see you around, Clarke."

Clarke let himself into the condo, trying to not feel guilty about the smile plastered on his face the entire drive from Cailin's parting kiss. Or about his impulses getting the better of him down the block from Molly's. He had been overcome with rage, unable to stuff down his anger at Hayes and Lisa when Cailin had appeared like a buoy in a raging ocean. He wasn't sure entirely what he was thinking as he practically devoured Cailin in the middle of the sidewalk, but he knew she was his only shot at something approaching calm that night.

Clarke didn't even bother entering the bedroom, he hadn't slept in the same bed as Lisa since coming back to find Hayes there, she hadn't pushed for it either. The clean uniform she had left on the couch saying everything he needed to know. He wondered for a moment if Hayes had been back that night, but he shoved that thought aside, focusing on how Cailin's lips felt against his, her eyes filled with such concern for him, her soft skin beneath his…sleep, he needed to focus on sleep; he didn't want to mess up on his last shift with the guys that, as he said at Molly's, had saved his life.

* * *

_A/N: Figured I owed y'all at least this bit. Though there is some serious foreshadowing to 210/211 involved. _


	15. Get Burned

**Chapter 15: Crossfire**

_A/N: So there may be a slight delay before my next chapter, as I am off on a little "Shaycation" in Chicago. But I am sure I will be inspired to write tons when I get back. For those of you with a long weekend, enjoy it and be safe! And know I'll be thinking of each and every one of you as I go to the real Molly's and in front of the firehouse the use for 51. Yes, I did research this!_

* * *

Cailin woke up amazingly before her alarm went off, especially given how late it was when she got back to Gabby's. Yet she had fallen into an immediate and blissful sleep, something she couldn't help but attribute to the previous evening's extracurricular activities. Part of her had expected a disapproving Jimmy to show up in her dreams, but he hadn't. She almost regretted not telling the shrink about her nightmares, because a little dream analysis would be helpful now. She felt happier than she had in a long time as she made her way into the precinct, determined to not let Belden or Helling get her down. She had another chance, at her job, at life, and maybe even at…nope, she wasn't even going to think the L word. Clarke was still married, Lisa still keeping her talons in him.

Focus, she had to focus at being the best damn cop she could, maybe she could dig up something on McLeod. Frankly, she was a little hurt Casey hadn't already asked her to, but he was weird about that; going all brotherly on not wanting her to get in trouble at work. Funny, since they had so often got into trouble together at school.

"Well don't you look all chipper and not ready to pull a gun on anyone," Helling remarked as she walked into the pen.

"Don't push my anger management skills first thing, Helling," she said, giving him a look before striding into Belden's office. As she predicted, he didn't seem like he wanted to give her gun and badge back, but he didn't have a choice. She took his ranting lecture, mostly thinking back to the night before, though her thoughts kept being punctured by worries of 51 closing and what would happen to everyone. Finally, he pulled her gun and shield out of his drawer, sliding them towards her. "No more screw ups, Callahan. Even if I can't fire you, I will transfer you. Here's your first scene, GSW over on West Huron, go get me a collar, detective."

* * *

It wasn't exactly a welcome back, but it wasn't a 'go to hell' either. Cailin made her way to the crime scene, for once not angry for having to badge her way in; she had practically petted the damn thing on the way over so happy to have it back. Any positive emotion Cailin was feeling left her body in one fail swoop as she stepped underneath the yellow tape and into the apartment. Her reaction must have been visible because a uniform appeared at her side, though his condescending when he asked, "are you alright, Detective? It's just a GSW."

"I can see that," she hissed, taking in the body prone on the floor, a puddle drying on the throw rug underneath him.

"2, actually," said the ME on scene, "close range, almost looks like a combat wound. The lab will have to tell you more once I extract the bullets. Estimated TOD is sometime 10pm and 1am."

"Who found him?" Cailin asked the uniform, forcing herself to sound professional and follow procedure to the letter.

He puffed his chest up, "my partner and I did. Vic didn't show up for his construction shift at 6am, co-workers got worried, wanted a wellness check. Super let us in at 7:05 and we found him like this. Secured the scene immediately, my partner is knocking on doors now."

"What do you know about him?" Cailin asked, tightening her jaw, willing her coffee to stay down.

The uni flipped through his memo book. "Vic is one Brian Hayes, 39. Construction worker for Walsh, mostly construction. Never married, no kids, from Gary, been in the city over twelve years, has lived here four. Super says he keeps to himself, not here much, pays his rent on time."

"You question the co-workers yet?" Cailin asked, trying to figure out what her next move. She couldn't investigate this case, but she couldn't punt her first case back either. She felt a growl rise in her throat.

Uniform shook his head, "not yet, but I can head over to the site if you want." He looked over eager, but Cailin knew she needed to get out in front of this. Especially considering in their talk last night, Clarke had revealed what all had occurred between him and the man whose body she was now standing over last night. She knew even without being his alibi that Clarke hadn't killed Hayes, but multiple people had heard him threaten as much last night. Crap. Crap. Crap. "Nah, I'm on it. Just cover the building, see what you can get from any street or local cams and let me know. Where's the work site?"

Cailin made it back to her department car, making herself drive away. She made it halfway to the site before having to pull over and empty the contents of her stomach in the gutter. She couldn't believe she had just been assigned to investigate Jeff's wife's lover's murder. It was almost comical. She knew if she passed it off, Belden would badger her until she told him why. And when she told him why, he wouldn't let her near the case and she wouldn't be able to protect Jeff.

How had Brian Hayes managed to get himself killed the very night four other people heard him threaten to do so? How had she ended up as his alibi? How the hell was she supposed to explain that? Assuming Jeff would let her, because he would probably- Shit. Lisa. Freaking Lisa. Who had told Hayes where to find Jeff. Who knew his rage. Who knew how he could react. Who, also according to the talk last night, had also seemed to find out about her. Hayes, wanting his money, not willing to let Lisa go, Lisa stringing Jeff along, wanting to have her cake and eat it too. Had she done this? Combat wound. Could she be that ruthless? To set up her own husband, who came back to her after everything she had done?

Cailin leaned her head against the steering wheel. She wanted to protect Jeff, but she worried he would be more concerned with protecting Lisa then himself. Speaking of which, how was she supposed to protect herself?

* * *

After questioning the co-workers, who luckily didn't recognize her as the woman they had pawed in front of Molly's last night, she knew she had to hand off the case. They had happily revealed their encounter with Clarke the night before, as well as Hayes' relationship with Lisa; bragging that their friend was shagging Captain America's wife. Cailin forced herself to not arrest both of them on assaulting an officer, stopping only on account of still being on suspension the night before.

After visiting autopsy and hearing that the bullets appeared to have come from a military issue sidearm, her stomach dropped even further. The logical next step in this case would be to question both Lisa and Jeff and she couldn't damn well do either of those things. She had barely stopped herself from calling Jeff, knowing they might need to subpoena his phone records. This was beyond bad.

She walked back into the pen, squaring her shoulders as she stepped into Belden's office, setting the file on his desk. "I can't work this case, Loo."

"Why the hell not Callahan?"

"Because I can't," she replied. She knew he was going to fight her on this.

Belden glared at her, "give me one good reason."

She lowered her eyes, "conflict of interest."

Belden stood, his voice rising to a yell. "Conflict of interest, are you kidding me? It is a violent crime and you are a violent crime's detective. Who just got off of suspension, did you like your unpaid vacation that much, because I can make it permanent!"

Cailin took a deep breath. "Sir, I am not working this case, I am recusing myself."

He sneered, "look at you, throwing around fancy words, you ain't a lawyer, you can't recuse yourself, Callahan, Work the freaking case, better yet solve it, because that is your job. Or you can leave your badge and gun on my desk and head back to that firebug bar of yours and show your tits for tips. Understood?"

Cailin's reply was to storm out of her boss' office, slamming the door behind her. She ignored the stares following her through the precinct as she clomped up the stairs to Intel to visit the only friend she hoped she still had in the precinct. "Hey, Antonio, don't suppose you're bored, huh?"

"Working under Voight, not a chance, but what's up?" he studied the other detective carefully. He had heard about her suspension, but he had also heard about her from his sister and the two stories didn't line up. He had gotten a hold of her jacket, not exactly light reading. He couldn't help but think that if she could keep herself better in check that she would't be a great asset to the team. Of course he hadn't told Voight that, since he knew the man liked to handpick his own team.

Cailin bit her lip. "I kinda caught a case I can't work, but Belden isn't taking no for an answer."

Antonio looked at her with his eyebrows raised, "you are turning down a case on your first day back? I find that hard to believe." The glint in her eye made him stop, he cast a sideways look at Jay who had just come walking in. Cailin gave him a look as well, causing Jay to sit as his desk, pretending to mind his own business. "What case is it?" Antonio finally asked.

Cailin put the case on his desk, looking at it as though it were a bomb. "Brian Hayes, found this morning in his apartment, two in the chest." She took a deep breath, unsure of what to say, finally coming out with, "there may be a connection to 51."

"That connection someone either of us grow up with?" Antonio asked wondering how either Gabby or Matt might be mixed up in the case. Cailin gave the smallest shake of her head, looking like her world was falling apart. Antonio nodded with relief, "that connection related to the jarhead my little sister said you've been getting friendly with?" He knew she wasn't going to volunteer anything, could see her biting the inside of her cheek as she nodded, refusing to make eye contact. He felt bad for her, especially since reading her file. He knew she was a good cop who had gotten into bad situations and this seemed to be yet another one of them. "Hell of a first day back, huh?" he said.

"Not exactly the welcoming committee," she said, glaring at Jay who was trying to overhear.

"If I take this, you know you can't be involved, I can't tell you anything. Are you prepared for that?" Antonio asked, sitting on the edge of his desk, looking down at her.

"Yeah, I know. But I know I can't work this and I need this job, Dawson, it's my life. Just promise me you'll do your best work, trust your gut and remember not everything is what it looks like?"

Her tone was pleading and desperate. Antonio shot Jay a look before he nodded, "fine, Callahan, pass me the file, you know how much Voight likes to hone in on Belden's cases." That got a short bark of laughter from Cailin, enough for him to feel better about her walking out alone.

She called into dispatch, bribing them to route the next case directly to her, wanting to stay busy and away from Belden, knowing he was going to flip out when he found out what she had done. Luckily, for her at least, an assault with a deadly weapon case came in quickly enough. Some tourists walking where they shouldn't have been, taking pictures with their iPads, held at gunpoint and roughed up. On the way she called her mother trying to ensure why the woman had called her all morning. "Is dad okay?" she asked as soon as her mother answered the phone.

"Oh he is fine, dear, you just haven't been home and I wanted to see if you had been one of officers who arrested my good for nothing nephew. Because if so, I see how that could have put you in a pickle, having to arrest a cousin. So sad for his wife and children, embezzling all that money and then Greg not even taking them on those vacations, or his mother?"

Cailin snorted, not shocked to hear about Greg Sullivan's arrest. Maybe Mouch could be union president after all. "No, ma, I wasn't one of the cops that linked up Greg, and I'm kind of dealing with another pickle now, so can I call you back?"

* * *

A mix of moods fell over 51, which reflected Clarke's own emotions well. One moment, thinking about Cailin, he was completely tranquil; then seeing Severide or Hermann would make him think about Hayes busting into Molly's last night and his mood turned sour. He had found the bedroom door locked this morning, trying to get a different pair of socks, which further proved to him that Cailin was right, he was punishing himself, and her, for no good reason.

Nobody wanted to admit that 51 couldn't be saved, in fact plenty of Hail Mary plays were happening, but the blade still hovered over all their necks. Clarke felt bad for the kid out front, sitting in the cold rain trying to get people to sign his petition. Just like he felt bad for Cruz, especially after Otis reveal he had made the cd for him. For a minute, Clarke wondered if he shouldn't have let Cally keep laying into Zoya, but he was little worried she was about to strangle the other woman with the bar towel. His talk with Cruz left him even more restless, listening to the other man talk about the connection he had with Zoya, how he had hoped it was going to grow into something. Clarke had nodded along, thinking about Cailin the entire time, kicking himself for ever falling for Lisa's lines, dealing with her crap. Cailin had shown him more concern, had been more of a companion in a couple of months than Lisa had been in years. Most of all, she understood, didn't make him feel like a freak for not reacting to things how he was 'supposed to'. Of course Cruz had taken his nodding and attributed it to Lisa. He had a hard time choking out his response. A little messy with her ex, that was a massive understatement. Why couldn't she just leave him for Hayes, for good? Maybe then he and Cailin would get a chance. At least a call had come in to spare him from having to say anything more to Cruz.

He barely noticed when Detective Dawson walked in, until he heard his name mentioned. He followed, curious, Severide being asked to come as well. Hearing Hayes' name made both men laugh, had the idiot really gone to the police over a stupid threat? He had some nerve. Clarke would have been furious, except he knew the detective was looking for a reaction. When Dawson said Hayes was dead, Clarke couldn't quite process it. He froze as Severide walked away with Dawson. Something clicked into place, this kind of case wouldn't normally be with Dawson's elite intelligence unit, it would normally be with…Cailin. He pulled out his phone as the other two men's backs turned, sending out a quick text. He just hoped she hadn't done something to jeopardize her career.

* * *

Cailin spent a good chunk of the day trying to track down the assailants, who had been poorly described by the English as a seventh language tourists. She was not shocked when her phone buzzed, a text from Clarke reading nothing more than "10-50 MRS". It took her a moment to figure it out, 'change frequency' followed by 'maintain radio silence'. Cailin was guessing Antonio had just made a visit to 51. She wasn't shocked Clarke didn't want her to say anything, but that didn't stop her from wanting to.

She finally caught a break in her case when one of her pawn shop CIs called her with a guy coming in to fence iPads and had been dumb enough to use his actual driver's license. She had him linked up and through booking, by that time at least late enough for Belden had left for the day. Knowing he wouldn't tell her anything, but at least wanting to gauge his reaction, Cailin headed upstairs to see if Antonio was still in IU. He was, sitting at his desk, filling out paperwork. He didn't look pleased to see her.

"Callahan, I told you-"

Cailin put her hand up, "I know, Dawson. I just…you might not be getting the whole story."

"When do we ever get the whole story? I know you are a good cop, Cal, but so am I. You got to let me see this case through, no matter what the outcome. For your sake, I hope its turns out okay, Gabby said Clarke was a good guy." He looked at her for a long beat. Something wasn't sitting right with him. Clarke's caginess, Severide's insistence, the evidence seeming almost a little too convenient, the wife's willingness to throw her husband under a bus. Except he had to go with what he had and that meant waiting on an arrest warrant for Jeff Clarke. His phone rang, from Gabby; thinking Cailin might need to swing by 51 for a little girl chat, he answered.

Cailin saw the expression change on Antonio's face. Going from a slight smile to one of concern. "What? Slow down. When? Where? Okay. Yes, yes, she's here. I'll tell her." Cailin swallowed, a high-pitched buzzing in her ears, unable to speak, but Antonio told her everything she needed to know. "There was a scene, Casey got hurt. Bad. They're at Lakeshore." Cailin was already running down the stairs as soon as the last word exited Antonio's mouth.

* * *

Cailin screeched to a stop at the curb by the E/R, her light dash the only thing stopping the security guard from telling her to move it. She rushed in, seeing the members of 51 still in their bunker gear, covered in soot, sitting in silence, filling the waiting room. Except for Gabby, leaning against a wall as though it were the only thing keeping it up. Cailin rushed up to her, the other woman collapsing forward slightly. Cailin bit back her own tears, wanting to stay strong for her friend. "He's a survivor, Gabby, he always has been," she said, looking the other woman in the eyes.

Gabby couldn't take it, seeing Cailin try to hide her terror, having held down Matt's seizing body in the ambo, it was all more than she could handle. "I just need a minute," she said, trying to not fall apart before she got to the bathroom.

Cailin let her go; knowing, like her, she didn't want anyone to see her weak and vulnerable. She set her jaw, trying to ignore Severide motioning for one of the guys to move so she could sit down. Mostly because it left a seat free next to Clarke. This wasn't exactly the best place to discuss his wife's potential for homicide or that fact that she was his alibi. She closed her eyes before going to sit down next to him, one hand across her torso, the other pressed against her mouth. Today could eat it.

Clarke wanted to reach out to her, to grab her hand, to let her fall apart in his arms. He knew she was terrified about losing Casey, he had heard from both how close they were growing up. Not to mention he had figured out she had passed the case off, could tell she had struggled with that decision by the look on her face. But she respected his decision, however ill-formed it was. In his gut, he knew; he just couldn't bring himself to face it. Not only had he potentially thrown away a chance at happiness with the amazing woman sitting next to him by going back to an adulterer, Lisa might actually be trying to frame him for murder. He gave in to leaning just the slightest bit to his left so their arms and shoulders were touching, everyone else distracted with Mills' statement that he would always be a firefighter. That slightest bit of contact was almost enough to make him disintegrate.

Cailin continued to stare straight ahead, trying to keep it together as his muscular arm made contact with hers. She worked her jaw, trying to name all the emotions flooding her. "Radio silence, huh?" she said, her tone both bitter and mournful. He didn't turn his head, just giving her the slightest of nods, his own jaw also clenched. "You ever think about telling semper fi to screw off, Clarke?" she hissed, not wanting anyone to hear her. He didn't respond, Shay coming out to give them a non-update. Cailin saw Antonio walk in, going straight for his sister who was back to leaning against the wall. She couldn't quite process it when she saw him wave for Clarke. She started to rise as well but Antonio made a motion for her to keep sitting. Severide was already up out of his chair, ready to support his squad man. She really couldn't process it when she saw Antonio start to walk away with Clarke, gesturing for a uniform to join them, but she was already leaping out of her chair yelling, "what the hell, Antonio?" He didn't look back as he and the uniform escorted Clarke out.

Cailin moved to race after them, but Severide clamped down on her arm, piercing her with his eyes. "Don't, Cally. You just got your badge back. Gabby needs you. Matt will need you." She nodded, her heart falling and then shattering as she saw the doctoring come out from the operating room. Her fear for Matt overshadowing her concern for Jeff.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry to leave y'all with a bit of a downer (but unlike the show it won't be a month before the next "episode", promise!_


	16. Fire Quest

**Chapter 16: Quest For Fire**

_Greetings from Chicago. Promise there is light at the end of the tunnel and I was so very inspired this weekend!_

* * *

"Just let me make a call," Cailin pleaded, even though she can tell by the set of his jaw he wasn't going to let her. "You and I both know that you sitting in here is ridiculous and I've let you tie my hands this much. I understood it to a point, but it's been three and a half weeks! What did your lawyer say? Has Lisa even been to see you?"

"Cailin, please," he said, his eyes flashing icily, "I can't let you get involved in this. You just got your badge back, you don't understand." And she didn't, she didn't know how torn he was, trying to sort out his loyalties. To Lisa, not because he wanted to protect her, but because he had made a vow to her. Because he wouldn't have come back from that first tour in Iraq if it hadn't been for her. He owed her his life. Otherwise he would have just given up, over there in the hot, sandy chaos. But also feeling loyalty to Cailn; because Cally had been a ray of light in his darkness, even when she just thought she was a storm cloud. Because she had accepted him without question, that bond forming from the very first night at 51. He didn't want to involve her, knowing she was on thin ice at work. Knowing she would face scrutiny at the precinct, at 51, with her family if he revealed he had been with her that night. He knew she was still holding such guilt, had already been the subject of scrutiny after Jimmy's death; he couldn't do that to her.

"I'm already involved, Clarke," she snapped. She fought the urge to reach out and touch him, having used her creds to get in under the auspices of questioning him. Knowing he would refuse to see her if she came in under the visitors log, he had when she tried that a week ago. And the two times before that. As it was, she was having to keep pacing around the table to keep herself from either hugging or shaking him. She wanted desperately to do both. If she hadn't been distracted by the doctor updating them on Matt's condition, she would have run after Antonio and prevented this entire mess from happening in the first place. He could try to protect his no good wife all he wanted, but she had no loyalties to that woman; except she knew how much he lived by the code. She was angry enough that any CO passing by would figure she was trying to nail him to the wall without any acting on her part.

"You don't need to take this on, Cal, you don't have any obligation to me," he said quietly, gazing through and past her." He was trying to freeze her out, cut off his feelings for her, even though he knew it was useless. But he knew she had to keep her job, her purpose, that she would flounder and fail if she didn't have that. Yes, she was strong, stronger than she even realized, but he knew she wasn't that strong.

"Spare me the good little jarhead routine!" she snapped, before her heart dropped to her stomach, he couldn't really think that, could he? Of course she was obligated to him, if it hadn't been for him, she probably would have just slipped under the waves of crushing darkness completely.

Cailin slid the chair out from across the metal table from him. "You might not think I do, but I owe you more than you know. You are the first person since everything happened to not treat me like I am made of glass and about to break any second. You are the first person that I feel like understands, that gets me, that doesn't make me feel like a freak. You've helped me in so many ways. You said that 51 saved your life, but you may very well have given me mine back. Let me help you, let me in, Jeff, please?" Her tone was pleading, her eyes glittering with tears.

Clarke had to hold himself back from reaching across the table to touch her, acutely aware of the guard's presence right outside the room. He couldn't risk her losing the one thing that was keeping her afloat for him. He didn't expect her to understand why he couldn't turn his back on Lisa. That didn't stop him feel like he was tearing her in half. She may have felt he hadn't treated her like she was made of glass; but he had the urge to protect her, to heal her since the first time he noticed her gaze practically penetrating him. But that didn't stop him from still being married. To someone who had murdered her boyfriend. And he was sitting in jail after she set him up for it. "I can't let you risk your badge, Cal, I just can't."

"Screw my badge, this is your life, Jeff, don't throw it away." He closed his eyes, unable to look at her and when he opened them, she could tell he had put all his defenses up. Her window was gone. She cast a look outside, waiting until the guard turned. Her hand covered his, encircling his wrist right above the shackles they had insisted keeping on him. "I need you, Clarke, I need you out there." She gave him one last long look, fighting back her tears before banging on the door for the guard to open up.

She drove back to the precinct dejected but determined to help him even if he refused it. She wasn't going to throw Lisa under the us, but she wasn't going to let Jeff throw everything away for a Jezebel.

* * *

Cailin climbed the stairs up to the intelligence unit, even though she hated going up there. She couldn't handle the unyielding gaze of Voight, as though he was either auditioning her or trying to scare her off. She also hated that they had such free rein to color outside the lines, or more accurately, she hated her jealousy of that ability. But what she hated most of all right now was that they could have Clarke freed in a manner of hours if she just told the truth.

"Callahan," she head Antonio say by way of greeting, "is everything okay with Matt?"

Cailin nodded. Matt had made remarkable progress after his emergency surgery, and she was pretty sure Antonio's little sister had a lot to do with that. Gabby had provided nearly round the clock support and care. Not to mention enough concern and love that Cailin was pretty sure if Matt didn't get better to appreciate what he had put Gabby through, she would have kicked her oldest friend's ass, head trauma or not.

She had tried to help as much as she could, coordinating all the rehab people, having gotten a resource list for her mother. Gabby was practically living at Matt's, allowing Cailin to stay at her place. Which would have been perfect, except her father's condition had turned even bleaker, to the point where her mother was finally facing she might have to put him in a facility and she was trying to be the good prodigal daughter after 13 years away. She was dealing with all the personal stuff on top of the chilly reception Belden was giving at work; despite her working every case that crossed her desk doggedly, refusing to list a single one inactive. Cailin felt pulled in every direction, trying her hardest not to snap, even if she found herself with her foot on the neck of more than one 'banger while making an arrest. At least she didn't have a partner, Belden short-staffed enough he couldn't have Helling babysit her.

"Yeah, Antonio, he's doing great. Better than expected. How could he not be with your sister running such a tight ship?" She forced a smile, though she knew he could see right through it.

He looked at her, cocking his head at Jay and Jules, both studying them. "Let's take a walk, I gotta check on something."

Cailin followed, until they ended up in the loading dock, Antonio setting his jaw. "I don't have anything, Cal, and Clarke isn't talking. Keeps saying to talk to his lawyer, who doesn't have anything for us anyway."

"What about the evidence?" Cailin pushed.

"Callahan, you know I can't talk you about this!" Antonio snapped before sighing. "Tests were inconclusive on Clarke's firearms. You know as well as I do how many vets we have in Chicago and how many .45's are out there that are military issued." Cailin stood, arms crossed over her chest, debating. She started pacing, trying to figure out how to play this. Antonio caught her arm, making her stop. "You got something you want to loop me in on, Cally?"

Cailin made a face, wanting to say she thought Lisa was a murdering bitch, but that ruin any chance she had of happiness in the future.

"Look, I know from Gabby that you and Clarke have this thing and she's all for it; and if she says he's a good guy, I'm willing to believe it. That doesn't help the case though. So if you got something, tell me. It can stay between you and me. One of the benefits of working IU is getting to do things your own way." Antonio still hadn't let go of her arm, waiting for her to make a decision.

She finally nodded, chewing on her lip. "Look, Antonio, I'm not about to tell you how to do your job; however, I've worked enough 'he said she said' cases to know when someone is willing to step out with a married person, there's a lot of jealousy to go around. I know we always look at the spouse, but sometimes both spouses..." she paused, letting Antonio form his own conclusions. "I'm just saying if this was still my case, I would be interested to see what the phone records between the wife and Hayes looked like." As soon as he dropped her arm, she out her hands up saying, "but like I said, not my case. Clarke ever give you an alibi?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Clarke hasn't given me anything, Callahan, but I am all ears," Antonio fished.

Cailin faked a call on her phone, "would you look at that? Caught a case. Catch you later, Dawson," she said, heading back to Violent Crimes.

Knowing she had planted a seed in Antonio Dawson's head, without directly going against Clarke's pleas for her 'radio silence' or outright accusing Lisa, she knew there was nothing else she could do for him on the CPD end. That didn't mean she was going to let him extend his stay at Hotel Cook County, even if it meant she would be couch surfing for eternity. Sighing, she pulled the cashier's check out of her bag and told Belden she was taking a seven before heading over to the courthouse.

* * *

"Just tell me the make and model of the car, you already admitted to being there," Cailin hissed next to the teenager's face, having already spent hours grilling the only witness to a shooting involving a four-year-old.

"I told you, Shorty, I can't explain the car, you just had to see it," the teen explained again.

Cailin wasn't sure if he was high or giving her the run around, but she was over it. "Sit tight," she said, exiting the interview room. She went next door to where they questioned children, picked up a box and stormed back into the room. "Here, go," she said, putting the box in front of him and sitting back in the chair across from him, glaring.

"Damn, Shorty, you kinda fine when you're doing that glaring thing, bet your old man try to get you hot-"

Cailin leaped out of her chair, slamming a fist on the table. "If you call me Shorty one more time, I swear to god, kid, you are going to wish you had taken a bullet in that drive-by. I don't care if you have to use every crayon in that damn box, draw me a picture of the car. Now!"

Jay gave Antonio a look as they observed Cailin questioning the teen. "A little hot-headed," Jay remarked. "We work with Voight," Antonio countered. "Nice work with the crayons though," Jay said, as the kid actually started drawing. "Told you she was good," Antonio said, before beating on the glass.

Cailin rolled her eyes, wondering if Belden was going to bitch at her for not playing nice again, shocked to see Antonio and Jay standing there. "Interesting technique, Callahan," Antonio smirked. "Worked, didn't it?" she countered with a smile. Jay shook his head, before saying, "got something to do downstairs, thought you might want to help out."

Cailin looked at him for a long beat, "I'm trying to keep my jacket clean for at least couple of months, Halstead, but if you want some tips on how to not leave a mark…"

Jay studied her, not sure if she was joking or not. "Just come on, Dawson will watch Van Gough in there."

Cailin wasn't sure what she expected downstairs, but it wasn't watching Clarke get fitted with an ELMO. He showed no sign of emotion at her being there. She knew why she was there as soon as Jay spoke up after Clarke queried how long he would be wearing his anklet. "Until your trial unless you want to tell me what happened that night, avoid the trial altogether."

So that was it, Jay was using her presence to see if Jeff would speak up, looking for a confession. She just couldn't figure out if Jay was expecting Jeff to admit to being with her or to murder. She closed her eyes as Jeff said, "talk to my lawyer, I've got nothing to say." She glared at Jay as he shot back, "see you in court then." Though she caught his look as exited, gesturing for the uniforms to follow him, leaving the two of them alone. "Jeff-" she started, but he cut her off, anger still clear in his tone.

"What did you do, Callahan?" he asked gruffly.

"Thanks for getting me out of prison, Cal, so nice to not spend another night worrying about getting shanked in the chow line," Cailin snapped back. This wasn't what she had planned on at all.

He wavered a bit, though his eyes were still stormy. "You have an odd way of maintaining radio silence."

"Hey, you're first message was to change frequency, solider, so that's what I did. I haven't given up any coordinates, promise," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and drumming her fingers on her bicep.

"So the courts just magically decided to ROR me?"

Cailin pointed down, "you are being monitored."

"Cailin," he growled.

"You are a Rescue Squad firefighter, with a whole house behind you, a decorated veteran, a married property owner in the great city of Chicago, where you have extensive community ties. Seems to me, the courts should have taken that into account," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Let me guess, a certain detective from a well-known Chicago FD/PD family may have flashed her badge and baby blues to remind the courts of that?" Clarke glowered at her, trying to figure out who, exactly, he was angry with.

"For a guy who is going to get to sleep in his own bed tonight for the first time in a month, you certainly don't seem real ecstatic, Clarke," Cailin remarked, her brow wrinkling.

Clarke took a step forward, lowering his voice, since there was a busy precinct steps away. "I haven't slept in my own bed for a lot longer than a month, Callahan, and I am pretty sure you are not telling me everything. You don't have to do me any favors, I can handle my own."

Cailin uncrossed her arms, dropping them to her hips, pulling herself up to her full height, augmented slightly by her heels but still inches short of his frame. "I am not doing you any favors, Clarke. I know you hate the very idea of owing anyone anything, that isn't what this is about. Maybe a month in lockup made you forget that night outside Molly's or the months before that between you and me, but I haven't. Protect Lisa all you want, Jeff, that isn't going to make me stop wanting to protect you!"

The words said low and quiet, but still seemed to reverberate in the room as Clarke stared down at her. Once again, it was like she was inside his head; he already knew she was in his heart. He was trying to formulate a reply when a uniform came back in, ready to finish the paperwork of his release.

* * *

"Nice trick, Halstead, I love being bait and not being told about it," Cailin raged as soon as she reached IU.

"Just trying to close a case, Callahan, save the taxpayers some time and money," Jay shot back, rising from his desk, charging toward the blonde fury currently storming towards him.

Antonio got up from his own desk, stepping between them. "Cool it, both of you!" He turned to nod at the unamused looking Voight who had just exited his office. "Jay, that isn't what we agreed on. Cally, you handed off the case, stop working it!"

The two detectives locked horns and glares, Antonio still standing between them. Cailin didn't want to look away first, but she had a feeling based on what she had heard about Halstead that he could wait her out and then some. "Freaking snipers," she growled as he didn't even blink. "He didn't kill Hayes, I know he didn't. So would one of you please find some evidence to support that?" she said, before stomping back to her office.

"She's tenacious, I'll give her that," Voight remarked from his doorway, chewing calmly on a toothpick, before turning and retreating back inside.

"I take it you didn't tell her we got the phone records?" Jay said with a smirk.

"Nah, she's too close to this. I've got somebody else I'm going to call," Antonio remarked, already picking up the phone to call Peter Mills.


	17. Light a Match

_**Chapter 17: Building Fires**_

_A/N: I didn't get much writing done this past week, but I did soak up so much inspiration while checking out many of the as seen on CF places as I could. And yes, I did raise a pint or several to all of my fabulous readers at "Molly's". Anyone else bummed we aren't watching a new CF tonight?_

* * *

Clarke stared at the wood door, ashamed that he was having to knock, embarrassed that Lisa either wouldn't answer or wouldn't be alone. "Jeff," she said, opening the door with a look of complete shock. He didn't reply, brushing past her, wanting a shower and to get out of the clothes he had borrowed from Severide. Who he made his phone call when the CO said he was getting sprung. "Shouldn't we talk," she said, following after him, "about…Hayes…everything?" she said through the bathroom door.

He opened it enough to stick his head out. "I think we can both agree we should not talk about Hayes anymore, ever!" he yelled, slamming the door in her face. He stood in the shower until the hot water ran out, and then let the cold beat down on him unrelentingly. He forced himself to not put his fist through the tiles. In some ways it had been better being locked up, at least he didn't have to face Lisa, knowing what she had done, knowing he was still willing to protect her. He wanted to stop that need, he had to stop it, or he risked driving Cailin away and that would be more dangerous than any firefight he had ever been in.

Lisa was gone when Clarke got out of the shower. While thankful for the peace and quiet, he still couldn't stand being in the apartment, deciding to try to clear his head with a walk. He wasn't expecting Mills waiting on his doorstep when he got back or for his friend to confront him. He knew he shouldn't have exploded at him, but he didn't like people in his business and he really didn't like others knowing what a fool Lisa had made of him. Though some of that was wanting to protect Cailin. He knew the guys of 51 had seen at least the connection between the two of them, had probably talked about her being the reason he cut off his ring; but they had also seen his reunion with Lisa. He realized she had made sure of this, dropping him off for the first few shifts, making a big show of it. Not picking up with Cailin to go back to his loving, supportive wife was one thing. Being a cuckhold was idiotic, especially since he knew how well-regarded Cally was around 51. Clarke also couldn't figure out why it was Mills coming to him with this; not that he expected Cal, but he was shocked it wasn't someone from CPD. His only guess was they were still waiting on him to make the move, to turn his wife in. He just couldn't bring himself to make that move without being completely sure.

It was hours before Lisa came home, he sat in the dark, holding his phone, debating calling Cailin to apologize a thousand times, except he didn't know what to say to her. He knew he should apologize for the way he acted, should thank her for her role in getting him out of jail, but his pride stopped him. Not to mention he wanted to keep distanced from her. At least that's what he thought until he talked to Lisa. Her denials and protestations ringing as false at her attempts at fidelity. Something in him broke free, he couldn't keep covering for her, not if he wanted to look himself in the mirror everyday.

* * *

Cailin's head snapped up from the paperwork she was doing, having tracked down the owner of the car sketched by the kid in crayon. Belden still didn't seem happy with her work, something she now believed was never going to change. Jay Halstead was hovering, looking like he was debating what to say. "Can I help you, Detective?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow, keeping her face passive.

"Uh, needed a consult on something," he said, "upstairs," he added when he realized Helling was trying to eavesdrop. "Sure," Cailin replied, following after him curiously.

"So, uh, had an interesting visit from Jeff Clarke earlier," Jay remarked, giving Cailin a long look, as if waiting for her to start blabbing.

"With or without a lawyer?" she calmly asked, even as her heart started racing; willing that Clarke hadn't done something boneheaded in his chivalry.

Jay nodded, as if realizing she wasn't going to give him anything. "Without, but with an alibi, including a receipt to a diner he was at when Hayes was killed."

"Wonder why he was sitting on that?" Cailin said, trying to hide her half-smirk.

Jay gave her a withering look before clearing his throat, "so, given his whereabouts at the time of the murder, Hayes' phone records and access to the weapon, looks like the wife is good for it."

"He said, she said cases, man, always a twist, huh?" Cailin remarked, even though she could tell Jay was getting frustrated.

"Warrant just came through, I was going to head over there with a patrol car to pick her up. Everyone else in IU is busy, so thought maybe you might want to ride-along?"

Cailin realized this was his version of an olive branch for using her as bait without telling her. "I think my paperwork can wait."

"You gotta stay in the car, though, Callahan, got it?" he warned.

"Loud and clear," she said with a mock salute.

She followed orders, despite wishing she could be the one to link up Lisa, who went rather resignedly with the uniforms. Clarke was nowhere around, thankfully. It wasn't until after they were back to the precinct and Jay had sent Lisa over to booking that he looked at her with a smirk and said, "Tanya said thanks for the tip, was how she remembered you." Cailin could feel the blood draining from her face until Jay broke into a smile and said, "have a nice day, Callahan," before jogging off.

* * *

Cailin was out taking a complaint from a female victim at the hospital for Helling when she got the text from Clarke, one word: Molly's. She tried to not rush the vic, knowing the woman needed time to process, but equally wanting to be anywhere but the ER of Lakeshore. For even more reasons now. By the time she got to Molly's, the atmosphere was beyond festive. Mills was celebrating getting a spot on Squad and Mouch his official appointment as interim union president. The guys also seemed to be trying to get Clarke...well not celebrating exactly, but at least drunk. She couldn't blame them, even while remembering the last time he had left here after copious amounts of whiskey. She paused at the front end of the bar where Hermann was looking even more curmudgeonly than normal. "Did they take you up on your discount, Hermann, you really should learn!" she teased, hoping to get him to crack a smile.

"It's not that. The bank seems to think we don't have a clean title on this place and are threatening to take it. Otis is trying to deal with it, with an attorney relative, but I don't have much hope. Just when things start looking up…" he trailed off, as if he suddenly realized who he was talking to. "I take it you heard about-" he gestured, unsure of how to phrase things.

"You could say that. Speaking of which, feel like I should probably buy him a drink," she said, tacking on, "full price, of course," which did finally elicit the wanted smile.

As soon as they saw her coming, Mills and Severide disappeared; suddenly interested in the game on the television, dragging a confused Mouch with them. Cailin slid a stool carefully out, not saying anything right away. "Buy you a drink?" she finally settled on when the tension became too great between them.

He gave her a small smile, "only if it's water, I think those guys are trying to get me drunk."

"At least they're not trying to take advantage of you," she paused dramatically, "are they?" she mock whispered.

Clarke drained his water, and the refill, even if Hermann gave him a dirty look before turning on his stool to look at Cailin. "I'm guessing news travels fast at the 2-1," he said, his tone steady.

Cailin couldn't help but smile, thinking of her ride along. "You would say that. I would say congratulations, but somehow that doesn't seem right. I'm betting Hallmark doesn't make a card for this."

"Probably not," he replied stoically, but didn't add anything more.

Cailin wanted to ask him what had changed, how he had decided to turn her in, what this meant for him, for them, but none of the words would come out. The conversation cut short as Gabby arrived, pulling Cailin aside and informing her that Matt had asked her to move in and she had accepted. "I thought maybe you could sublet my place, it is rent controlled," she said, looking pointedly at Cailin.

"It would be nice, but are you sure that wouldn't be an issue with your landlord?" Cailin asked, having known too many NYC horror stories.

"My landlord is absentee at best. Plus, I figured this way, if I need to occasionally crash there, it wouldn't be too weird."

"Ah, so there is part of you not stoked about the idea of moving in with Matt," Cailin said, looking over her pint at her friend.

Gabby shrugged, "it's not that, as much as it is that house. I feel like Hallie's still there…"

Cailin knew what she meant, being in Jimmy's place after his death was like one 24/7 trigger. "So tell Matt you want the two of you to get your own place, he'll understand. And if he doesn't, send him to me and I'll kick his butt."

Gabby laughed before looking at Cailin seriously. "You did hear about Clarke?"

"That his should-be-ex-wife got arrested for killing Brian Hayes, yes, yes, I did. Why do you think I'm here and was awkwardly sitting next to him at the bar?" Cailin pointed out.

"Oh crap, Cally, I should have realized. Go back, I'm sure you two have plenty to talk about." She gave her friend a little eyebrow waggle, leading Cailin to drain her pint in quick order.

* * *

"Seemed like some pretty serious girl talk, Callahan," Clarke remarked with a smirk when she made her way back to the bar.

Cailin shrugged, sitting back down, though now fidgeting with a coaster. "It does occasionally happen. And since it is resulting in my subletting Gabby's place, totally worth it."

"Good thing you'll be getting your bond money back soon then, huh?" he remarked giving her a long look with a mix of emotions Cailin couldn't identify.

Cailin started shredding the coaster, nervously. "Crap, how did you find out?"

"When I get the anklet taken off, it was in the paperwork. Cally, I thought you were broke, where did you come up with the money? And why?" Clarke's gaze never left her.

Cailin shrugged, "I'm not broke, broke, I was saving up to buy my own place, figured may as well since it was never going to happen in New York. As to why, do you really have to ask that?" She hoped the answer was no because she really didn't know what her own answer would be.

"You didn't have to," Clarke said, turning his attention back to his drink.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to become my jogging partner or get me through more than one meltdown or treat me like an actual whole human being, either, but you did; so even?"

"Not even close, Cal." He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "But we can start with me buying you dinner, because I can hear your stomach growling over here."

"I didn't really get a chance to take a seven," she protested, feeling slighty embarrassed, silently adding, 'because I was too busy watching Lisa get arrested'.

After settling up their tabs and walking out, the pair realized it was late enough that their only option was yet another greasy spoon, though this time not one with any waitresses named Tanya.

"At some point, Cally, you and I are going to have a meal together someplace that has tablecloths," Clarke remarked as they settled in at the counter of the busy diner.

"Are you kidding, I'm just happy sitting down and not at my desk," Cailin volleyed, ignoring the growing butterflies in her stomach. She was at a complete loss about how to act or what the expectations might be. There definitely wasn't a playbook for this situation either.

"What, what was that smirk for?" Clarke asked, pressing her.

She rolled her eyes, "was just thinking we seem to keep finding ourselves in situations without a playbook. Which given both of our control issues is sort of ironic."

Clarke returned the smirk. She was telling the truth. He really didn't know how he should act. He found himself drawn toward Molly's because, as he had told Mills, he did need family. Which is why he sent the text to Cailin, he needed to see her as much as anyone from 51.

Lisa hadn't made him her phone call either, instead he found out about her arrest from the building super and his very irate sister-in-law. In closing ranks, Lisa's sister had hired her an attorney as well as not so politely suggesting Clarke go ahead and file those papers that had sat around for months. Clarke saw no reason to argue. The moment he saw that look of realization in Lisa's eyes was the moment the union between them was irrevocably severed. Even with that the case, he still wasn't sure what his footing with Cailin was. He had been a complete jerk to her at the precinct, since his arrest, actually. He was ashamed, for so many reasons, but he wasn't ready to discuss any of that just yet. For the moment, he just needed a bit of light and comfort that only being with Cailin could offer. So like any other complex mission, he decided to take it one step at a time.

* * *

They walked back to their cars, Cailin teasing that should would give Clarke a field sobriety test, before realizing he had metered out the shots despite the best efforts of the guys from 51. Standing next to her borrowed truck, Cailin was suddenly awash with shyness. She needed to head home, not having the same benefit as the next day off as Clarke; but she didn't want to leave him either. Of course she wasn't sure what she was prepared for beyond that, either, feeling suddenly like a schoolgirl. Definitely not inexperienced, though she hadn't been with anyone since Jimmy, except for Nansenko's despicable roving hands…Cailin shook her head, shoving her feelings of disgust back into their box. She definitely didn't think it was appropriate to invite a guy back to your not even officially subleased apartment the same night his hopefully soon-to-be-ex-wife got arrested for murdering her lover. She let out a sigh of relief when she realized Clarke was standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, experiencing his own bout of bashfulness. At least they were still on the same page.

"You're smirking again, Cally," Clarke teased.

"Just continuing to contemplate the absurdities of life, Jeff," she shot back.

This seemed to lift some of the weight between them; at least enough for them to both lean in at the same time, aligning perfectly as their lips met. Clarke's hand resting gently on her neck as she moved up towards him, deepening the kiss just slightly before they both had to come up for air. Clarke reluctantly dropped his hand, though they stayed remarkably close, looking into each other's eyes. "I really should go," Cailin finally breathed out, knowing if she didn't they might end up back against that wall again…

Clarke gently brushed his thumb across her cheek bone, giving her one more short, but firm kiss before stealing her line, "see you around, Callahan," to which she instantly retorted, "you can count on it, Clarke."


	18. Feet to the Fire

**Chapter 18: Fire & Rain**

_A/N: There is some CPD crossover here because Belden and Violent Crimes was in the first episode of CPD. Though this will always be a CF story first and the continuity fairy doesn't always line things perfectly up between CF/CPD._

* * *

Cailin needed the day to end, though she didn't really want the ending she was getting. The thought of going to Molly's for one last hurrah before the bank took it away slayed her, especially with Molly's quickly becoming a refuge when she was suspended. Cailin also needed to drink until she forgot work and felt she had managed to steel herself against putting on her dress blues tomorrow.

Freaking Belden, had them running down a supposed joint investigation that quickly took on a cartel connection and then instead of working with Voight, got into a pissing match with tragic consequences. She hadn't known Jules more than to have seen her a couple of times up in IU, thought it didn't make it any less horrible. Especially since Jules only got that shotgun to the neck because Belden had taken his marbles and gone home instead of sharing information that would have kept them all safe, and alive. Now the entire IU was against Belden, and by proxy, Violent Crimes, blaming him for Jules' death. Cailin didn't blame them, had locked horns with Belden herself over the issue and would have stepped around him had he not kept her glued to his side. Which also meant she couldn't help with the hunt for Antonio's son, thought at least that had a far happier ending.

She dragged herself into Molly's, wanted to give the bar a proper send-off but was having trouble mustering the same festive spirit everyone else seemed to be in. She knew her smiles of greeting were hollow, though luckily most everyone else had already imbibed enough they didn't notice. Even Gabby, who had certainly dealt with a lot between Matt and her nephew's kidnapping, was dressed to the nines with full hair and make-up. Cailin was just glad she didn't have any food or coffee down the front of her shirt. She was able to slip through the ample crowd, the pub having clearly meant a lot to many people, and find a stool in the back near the unused dart board; trying not to look like she was hiding even though she was.

Matt spied her as he came out of the bathroom, seeing the slight wrinkle on her forehead and zeroing in immediately. "Hey, Cally," he said, his tone even, "Gabby told me that cop didn't make it. How you holding up?"

Cailin made a noise, "well at least I didn't get her killed, just my boss." Her words came out more bitter than she intended. "Ignore me, Matty, please? I just wanted to raise a pint to Molly's and then take the world's longest shower before what is sure to be a crappy day tomorrow. How are you doing?"

Matt studied her for a long beat, still having not gotten the entire story about what happened in New York with her partner's death, other than she blamed herself, despite being critically injured as well. He wasn't sure he wanted to burden her with any of his issues, even if he knew he needed to open up to someone. Gabby had been great, keeping him on point, ensuring he followed doctor's orders; but with her concerns over the academy and trying to make a real go at a relationship between them, he hadn't wanted to rock the boat. He knew Cal would be the perfect confident, she had been most of his life; but he knew that right now, she needed a drink and companionship other than his. So he cleared his throat and said, "I'm doing great, Cally. Let me at go grab you that pint, and maybe a shot, you look like you need one."

She nodded, absently, trying to not have flashbacks to the day Jimmy died, the nightmares back full fore ever since seeing Jules being carried, bleeding, down the stairs by Antonio and Voight; the look of blame on their faces unyielding.

It was an entirely different figure that returned with her whiskey and beer, an even more welcome figure. "Hey," she breathed in greeting, wondering why tears nearly sprang to her eyes the moment she saw him.

Clarke pulled over a stool, sitting it right next to Cailin, able to tell at one glance she was hanging on by a thread. "Matt said you could use this, by the looks of it, you could use more than one."

"Probably shouldn't show up hungover for a fellow officer's funeral," Cailin said, though she immediately downed the proffered shot.

"Life really isn't fair sometimes," he replied, not wanting to give her some pat platitudes he was sure she was getting from everyone.

Cailin clinked her pint glass against his, "you can say that again. Slainte." She drank, lost in thoughts and memories, trying to not be consumed by anger; relieved that Clarke just sat beside her; close enough to be touching, but not so close to make her claustrophobic. His mere presence enough to keep her from sliding deep down into the well calling her name. She barely even noticed the ruckus that occurred when Leslie Shay walked in, saying something about saving Molly's.

Clarke noticed the look of confusion on her face. "Darryl left her his estate, had to warn off his chump of a brother this morning, I say this is a good use." He gave her a small smile, before realizing she was just nodding, not processing any emotions. "Grab your coat, Cally, I'm driving you home."

Cailin shot him a look, "I've had one pint and a shot, it would be an affront to my heritage if I couldn't drive after that."

He shook his head, wanting to snicker, knowing not to. "I'm not insulting the Callahan name, Cailin; you've had a hell of a week and tomorrow isn't looking so good for you either. You raised your pint, Shay's saving Molly's, all is well here; so I'm driving you home."

She thought about protesting, wondering about the logistics of getting to the funeral the next morning when mental and physical exhaustion won out. Cailin knew she had been using all her facilities to not backslide; knowing Jules wasn't Jimmy, Belden wasn't her, the situations were different. They each knew the risks each day they were out on the job, cops died. She pulled on her coat, following him as he moved them quickly through the crowd before anyone even took notice.

Clarke didn't say anything as he drove her to Dawson's place, seeing her jaw set as she stared out the window into the dark of night, lost in her thoughts except to give him basic directions through the maze of one way streets.

As he pulled up, she slumped against the car door, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand. "This is one of those weeks I wish I would have listened to my mother and just become a teacher, damn," she said with a sigh. "To go out like that, happily married, two kids, knock on a door and, boom, lights out. You're right, life ain't fucking fair." Her head dropped to her hands, overcome with anger at Belden, at herself, at Jimmy, at the world; but she tried to force it down, knowing it wasn't productive.

Clarke could see her struggling, trying to not fall apart in the seat next to him. "Cailin," he said softly, reaching out and putting his hand on her shoulder, "you told me yourself, you can't make every save."

"Doesn't make it any easier," she said looking at him with a distraught expression.

"No, it doesn't," he agreed, not willing to lie. "But time does lessen it a bit. So does knowing someone is on your side, which I am. You aren't in charge of Violent Crimes, Belden is; let it eat at his soul, not yours."

"I wish it were that easy, Jeff," she said, unable to maintain the connection of his intense gaze.

"I know, Cal, I know," he replied with a knowing nod.

She looked out the window at Gabby's building and back at Clarke. "I would invite you in, but…tonight isn't going to be pretty," she admitted, with a wry grin.

"Life isn't always pretty, Cally, but it's your call," he replied, returning a half-smile.

Cailin moved away from the door, leaning towards him as much as she could with the console between them. "You're a good egg, Jeff Clarke, don't forget that," she said, placing a hand on his face and giving him a brief kiss, needing at least a slight moment of peace and comfort.

He caught her, gently, before she could move away, looking at her seriously. "You are too, Cailin, no matter what idiotic commands your boss gives." He pulled her in for a hug, pressing his lips against her head before releasing her saying, "what time do you need me to get you in the morning?" Cailin looked at him, puzzled. "For the funeral, you aren't going alone."

"Most of the CPD will be there, Jeff, I won't be alone, I'm-"

"No arguing, I already told you, on your side. What time?"

* * *

Clarke arrived at the requested time clad in his CFD dress blues. Cailin was slightly taken aback, even though she knew she should have expected nothing less. She tried to ignore the stirring in her as she saw how well he wore the dress uniform; feeling like a child playing dress up in her own dress blues and heading to another detective's funeral.

Given Belden's distaste for her and her barely contained fury toward him, Cailin hung back at Jules' funeral; away from both her team and IU. Clarke remained close to her side, maintaining a proper distance, though offering her his arm when appropriate as well as leaning her toward him the couple of times she nearly broke down.

Clarke had been to more funerals than he could count, though mostly military. It actually seemed odd for him to be in his CFD blues instead of his Class A USMC dress, but somehow it seemed the most appropriate. He wasn't the only CFD there by a long shot, the tragic line-of-duty death of a young, vibrant, detective bringing out many first responders. He noticed the churlish reception Cailin received from her boss, desperately trying to not give the weasely-looking man a piece of his mind. He also observed how she kept her distance from the IU, ducking her head in shame and changing direction when she entered their atmosphere. They kept their distance from her as well, but he wasn't sure how much of that was her or him, given recent events. Detective Dawson did give him the briefest of head nods seeing him reach out to steady Cailin as she stumbled slightly at the grave site. He wanted desperately to draw her into his arms and let her breakdown as she was so close to doing so, but he knew she wouldn't let herself be that vulnerable.

The snow started coming down in thick, heavy flakes as soon as the funeral ended, as if trying to cover the ugly rectangle of earth with something beautiful and pure. Cailin held back as the crowd dispersed, her jaw set, her gaze slightly empty. She was thinking snow seemed so much nicer than the driving rain at Jimmy's funeral, and much for fitting for the pretty, yet tenacious detective. She almost crumbled to the ground, seeing Jules' husband and two children still standing at the gravesite, the children's small arms wrapped around their father as though he were an anchor. Clarke's hand found the small of her back, righting her and keeping her upright. "Let's get you home, Cally," he said, leading her away.

She shook her head, "please just take me to get my truck, I need to get back to the precinct. I have to work, I have to do what I can to keep the streets safe, otherwise what the hell does it matter?"

He nodded, understanding her need to keep swimming, to have a purpose, to fill a need. "Okay then, just, promise me you'll be safe out there, for me?" His tone was slightly desperate and pleading.

"As long as you promise the same, cowboy," she said, with as close as she could get to a smile.

* * *

Cailin changed out of her dress uniform, wishing she could just crumple it in a ball in the corner and never look at it again. She arrived back at the precinct and immediately was called out on back to back cases, barely getting a chance to catch her breath for the next couple of days. The snow kept coming down, covering the city in an unrelenting, frozen blanket. She was not shocked at all when the Precinct Commander called for all hands on deck to be on-call as more and more of the city shut down. She knew she was definitely not going home anytime soon when the power went out over the entire district. Despite being sleep deprived and still stunned by Jules' funeral and the resulting rumination, Cailin ran home for her go bag and returned to the generator-powered station for a shower.

Which is where she ran into Detective Erin Lindsay, also partaking of the hot water. Cailin fiddled with her necklace, wondering if she should even keep wearing the rings around her neck like an albatross; debating if she should say anything to the other woman. Finally, unable to keep it in, she spit out, "Belden is an asshole." Detective Lindsay looked at her quizzically as if trying to place her. "Cailin Callahan, unfortunately of Violent Crimes. I wish I could have done something to prevent…" she trailed off, the anger rising in her gut.

"The detective from New York, Antonio was talking about you. Well, actually he was saying he felt sorry for you, having to work with Belden. Erin Lindsay. And thanks, we all do." She studied the other woman carefully. About an inch taller, similar build, but with her blonde hair and wide blue eyes, seemed to give off more of a sorority girl vibe, but something about the set of her jaw and expression said the woman had seen far more and worse than her unlined face would suggest. "Bet your husband is thrilled with you getting called in for the blackout," she remarked, pointing at the rings Cailin was playing with.

Cailin dropped them as though they were on fire. "He would have understood. He was a cop too, my partner actually, in New York."

Erin noticed her use of past tense, though she didn't press. Though she did say, "yeah, Belden is an asshole. Good to know you think so too. I'm just glad Voight…well, I'm glad I didn't get stuck under Belden, I don't envy you."

"That's good, because there's nothing to envy," Cailin paused, "I just wanted all of you, up in IU to know, I don't agree with this whole mean girls bullshit. We are all on the same team, I don't care who gets the collar or the kudos, I didn't become a cop for attagirls."

"Good to know, Detective Callahan, I'll keep that in mind the next time we need to work with VC." She paused for moment, before a spark of recognition crossed her face. "You're Cally." Cailin nodded, a furrow creasing her brow. "I've been around 51 and Molly's a time or two. You grew up with Lieutenant Casey and are staying at Antonio's sister's place."

"Guilty," Cailin said with a small grin.

She returned the smile. "Well, they seem to think you are good people, so I'll try to keep that in mind, despite your boss." She pulled her buzzing phone out of her pocket, "Nice officially meeting you, Callahan," she said, answering it.


	19. Caught in the Crossfire

**Chapter 19: Jump Into the Fire**

_A/N: Y'all I swear I am trying to go shorter chapters, but it just isn't working. I hope you are still enjoying, there are certainly enough people still reading! :) _

* * *

Cailin fought to keep control of the department issued sedan. She skidded as a group of teens skulking around walked out into the street without looking. She laid on her horn, thinking about pulling over and linking them all up; deciding instead to call it in to dispatch and get a patrol car out. This was how she had spent most of her evening so far; slowly creeping along the slick streets, calling in anyone that appeared opprobrious.

Freezing because the heater was spotty at best and needing a bathroom break after her endless cups of coffee, Cailin decided to stop by 51, knowing if she showed her face at the precinct, she would get reamed. 51 was a brightly lite refuge in the darkness, this time for more that just her, having opened their bays to the neighborhood. It was a hub of activity as Cailin made her way through the house, stepping over and around people, finally making her way to the kitchen.

An overwhelmed Cruz was begging Clarke to head to the corner store for more food stuffs, Cailin couldn't help but smirk at Clarke's mock salute. "Want a ride?" she asked as he stood up and walked around the island.

"Cally, hey," Clarke replied, stopping himself just in time from going and and greeting her in a more friendly matter than he should in the middle of 51. At least not until they had talked about it. He took in her duty belt and said, "on the clock, huh?"

She gave him a nod, stepping slightly back to avoid invading his personal space in the middle of the mess hall. "You know it, thought I was about to catch a breather and then this damn blackout, did you have the call out?"

Clarke mirrored her nod, but stepped towards her, reflexively. "Damn drunk out in this, hit a little girl." Anger flashed in his eyes, before he cleared his throat. "I need to get down to the corner, walk me out?"

"Sure you don't want a ride?" she said following him out the side door, realizing how much she had missed him over the past couple of days, how grateful she was for him being by her side at Jules' funeral.

"Nah, I could use the walk, it's kind of...loud in there." Clarke saw the slight downturn of her mouth, making him correct, "not trying to duck you, Cally, just need the quiet."

Cailin knew what he meant, the noise and lights and people had been crushing when she entered and she hadn't been to war. She was slightly embarrassed he had seen her reaction though. "I probably should get back to running the roads anyway."

Clarke did reach out to her this time, lightly encircling her wrist with his index finger and thumb. "Watch your six, Callahan, remember you're running without backup."

He looked at her with enough concern that she moved her hand to thread her fingers through his, giving it a squeeze. "I'm staying inside the lines, promise, Jeff. You can ask dispatch how many times I've called them to send a unit out. Now you better go get that food before I have to come back here for crowd control," she replied with a wry smile, enjoying even the small connection of their entwined hands.

Clarke looked around before giving her a quick kiss and pulled her to his chest, breathing in her scent before releasing her. "We really need to work on getting our schedules coordinated, Cal," he said as he let her go and stepped away, knowing he did need to go on his appointed errand.

"Tell that to the delinquents," she said, giving him a small wave. She watched him walk off, rounding the corner, into the darkness. Cailin stood there in the relative quiet for a moment, wondering where she stood with him; not wanting to forcibly define anything but also wanting some sort of control over the situation. She was pondering this when the side door flew open and Severide pitched a sketchy looking guy out into the night.

Cailin had to jump out of the way, her hand immediately resting on her holster as she heard the words exchanged, taking in Boden and Otis behind Severide. "You want me to take him in, Lieutenant?" Cailin asked, moving her coat so her badge was displayed, catching hold of the guy's hoodie.

Severide looked at her, seeing she was alone and knowing she must be swamped on calls. "Nah, as long as I don't see his face again tonight, or maybe ever, at 51."

"Take this as a gift, buddy," she said, glaring at him before dropping her hand. The guy skulked off, Cailin waited a moment before cocking her head, "you sure you don't want to make a report, Kelly?" she asked.

"Not worth the hassle. I'm sure you're busy as it is." As if to punctuate his statement, her phone started buzzing incessantly. "Oh great, more looting, this should be fun. See you guys around," Cailin said, striding back towards her car.

Woefully under-stocked in the riot gear department, Cailin could do little to assist except for dragging in a couple of looters to the precinct and shove them in an already full cell. Figuring since she was already there, she might look through some mug books and see if she could spot the creep Severide threw out of 51. It didn't take her long. "Vince Keeler, you are not a very upstanding citizen," she muttered, looking at his rap sheet. Plenty of arrests, had come up on murder charges twice but only a A&B charge ever took. She noticed a flag on his file, opening it to find out that there was a CI in the Keeler family, and that informant was one of Detective Erin Lindsay's. Cailin was glad the women had formally met earlier, because Lindsay was her next call.

* * *

Cailin was glad she had looked Vince Keeler up after touching base with Lindsay and learning that the kid had gone bragging about taking down a fireman. Lindsay was headed out the door to go talk to the guys at 51 when Cailin got called back out to transport more looters to booking. "Maybe I should just apply for my taxi medallion," she said, rolling her eyes before being swallowed again by the cold, dark night.

Tired of doing nothing more than throwing lugs in a cell, Cailin went back out to run the roads, wondering if some of wiser criminals hadn't fled from the looting since that is where most of the patrol cars were. Sure enough, she turned a corner catching sight of a group of 'bangers in their late-teens, clearly armed and putting a rock through the window of a corner store. Knowing she couldn't take down seven armed guys on her own, she radioed for immediate officer assistance, debating on whether or not to exit her car before they got there. She could only assume a civilian was in the store, judging by the way the pack froze upon entering. It was enough for her to leave the vehicle, pulling her vest on and her weapon out. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as the patrol car came flying down the street, doing a J-turn in front of the store. An officer charged out of the unit, yelling for the thugs to disperse; though the lights and sirens already had them doing just that. Cailin was about to go charging after one of them when none other than Clarke stepped out of the building yelling for an ambulance.

Her decision made, she charged toward the store, letting the miscreants scatter like the cockroaches they were. The male officer, Atwater, followed close on her heels as the female, Burgess, called for an ambo. "Clarke, what the hell?" she said, rushing up to him, noticing the beads of sweat on his brow and the bat still clenched in his one hand. "Are you okay?" she asked, wiping at his face. He dropped the bat, nodding, pointing at the older man on the floor, a wound on his abdomen. Atwater was already at the man's side, seeing if there was any additional first aid he could apply. Seeing he was in good hands, Cailin turned back toward Clarke. "This was your food run?" she said, closing her eyes, "seriously?"

He let out a nervous laugh, "yeah. Wonder if they've started eating tin cans yet back there?"

"Probably," she said, taking in the patch job on the store clerk, "playing McGuyver and GI Joe?" She looked at him, with a look of worry and anger. "There was at least seven of them, what were you going to do?"

"What were you going to do, Cally? I saw you get out of your car, that vest can only do so much. Thought I told you to watch your six," he chastised, though his words were softened by him tucking an errant chunk of hair behind her ear.

"My six was fine, just didn't know I was watching yours," she said, trying to lighten the mood as well as avoid pouncing on him while a man lay wounded on the floor next to them. The paramedics arrives, cutting off any further conversation as the pair moved to give them room to work, Burgess now in between them. "Thanks for the speedy response, Burgess," Cailin said, giving the woman a grateful smile, trying to not laugh as the younger woman looked at her like an excited puppy.

"Glad to help, Detective," she replied, cheerfully. Cailin chose to ignore Clarke's snort of amusement.

* * *

Clarke definitely agreed to a ride back to 51, after Cailin told the two uniforms she would handle the report and paperwork. They pulled up right as Detective Lindsay was twisting the arm of some lowlife, leading him her car. "You got that, Detective?" Cailin asked, giving the woman a raised eyebrow as Clarke headed inside.

Lindsay nodded, shoving the guy roughly in the back and slamming the door. "One of Keeler's henchmen, tried to take Severide out."

"Maybe once the damn power is back on, people will chill the hell out," Cailin remarked even as she and Erin exchanged a glance, "Nah," they both said with a laugh.

Cailin pitched in to help out at around the firehouse, waiting until there was a calm moment in the early dawn hours to take Clarke's official statement. She forced herself to not react as Clarke told her all of what transpired in the corner store. When he was done, she closed her memo book and cleared her throat, looking at him intently. "I'll need you to look through some mug books down at the station."

Clarke nodded, "yeah, sure, as soon as I get off shift. Unless you can take some lost time to get some shut eye. How many hours straight have you been working?"

"Asks the firefighter," Cailin retorted.

"I work 24 hours at a time and get 48 off, Cal, and it isn't like we have calls for that entire 24! When's the last time you slept in an actual bed?" Clark inquired, inching his hands across the table towards hers, barely brushing her fingertips with his.

Cailin tried to brush him off, "I'll be fine, I've caught a couple of cat naps."

"Cailin," he protested, low and just growling enough to send a shiver down her spine.

"When you dropped me off at Gabby's," Cailin admitted, ducking her head. He growled again. "I promise, I will go home and get some sleep after you look through the books."

He just kept looking at her like he was trying to read tea leaves. "Uh-huh, when's the last time you ate?" "An actual meal," he tacked on.

"I plead the fifth," Cailin said, realizing that the firehouse was waking up around them and Boden was trying to clear everyone out.

"Breakfast, then mug shots, then I'll tuck you in if I have to, I mean it, Callahan," Clarke said, pushing away from the table with a serious stare.

Cailin remained quiet through breakfast, forced professionalism while he looked through the mugshots; though that amounted to no leads. Her silence persisted even as he dropped her off. He attributed it to exhaustion, unaware that Cally was desperately trying to not explode, furious at his decision to face down the armed gang. Bad enough he ran into burning buildings and dangerous rescues for a living, to play security with nothing more than a baseball bat. Cal kept thinking how eerily similar the situation seemed to that day, Jimmy ordering ESU out, placing his gun on the floor, stripping off his vest; to rescue and protect her, taking the risk of dying. Which is exactly what happened. At least he had been a cop. Cailin wasn't sure she could deal with once again being in love with someone who had that innate drive. Except she already was...

She wanted to scream at him, dress him down for his rashness. Not that it would do any good, it wouldn't change anything; past, present or future. She also wouldn't be railing solely against Clarke. She knew that even with all her guilt, she was also infuriated at Jimmy, she just could never do anything with that anger.

So she shut down, trying to burrow into her shell. She almost refused his invitation to Molly's later, until her feelings toward him kicked down her fear and anger. She turned slightly as he tried to kiss her, his lips connecting with her cheek instead of their intended target.

Clarke pulled back as Cailin turned, studying her for a long beat. An inkling that something was brewing. Not pushing, yet still wanting to know where her mind had gone. He had noticed her quietness, but Cal wasn't as verbose as most women he knew; he attributed the extra level to exhaustion and still grappling with what had happened over the past week at work. Given the turn, he was trying to discern what else was going in behind her eyes, currently the color of storm clouds. Prying wouldn't help, like himself, she would only retreat further behind the barricade. At least she had agreed to grabbing a drink with him.

* * *

Apparently being forced to lay low in a blackout had put the neighborhood in festive mood, as Molly's was packed when Cailin arrived. She flashed her wallet badge at two obvious teen girls trying to gain entry by flirting with an unimpressed Matt who had been pressed into service as an impromptu doorman. "How many jobs you got now, Matty?" She teased, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before stripping off her outer layers.

"Hermann isn't letting Gabby leave until the crowd dies down, so thought I'd help with that. Don't suppose you and your badge are willing to take over?"

"Not a chance, I worked 76 straight with one shower break and barely got four hours of sleep before the kids upstairs started a hallway bowling league."

"Oh yeah, the Arnold twins," Matt said with a snicker.

She punched his shoulder, "why didn't you warn me? Some lifelong best friend you are!"

"Have you seen how hot my girlfriend is? I didn't want to risk her not moving in if she had to fully give up her place. Who do you think suggested the sublet?"

Cailin rolled her eyes, before smiling, "she is pretty hot." She looked at him seriously, placing her hand lightly on his forearm, "I'm so happy for you, Matt. Second chances don't happen for everyone, honor that, would you? And tell me you are taking care of yourself."

He looked at her, his eyes clouding like hers, "I am and I know, Cal. I still sometimes wonder what if, but Gabby gets that. I'm sorry about Jimmy too..." he paused, "I'm glad you came home." He glanced at the figure coming their way, giving Cal a small smile. "don't discount a second chance for yourself, Callahan," he remarked as Clarke stopped behind Cailin.

He could see Cailin sense Clarke's presence without even turning, the connection between the two almost psychic. He smirked as the flush rose on her ivory skin, looking very much like she had in high school when she had a massive crush on the captain of the soccer team.

"She's of age, Lieutenant, I'll vouch for her," Clarke said over her head, giving Casey a curious look at their seemingly intense conversation.

Cailin turned slightly, realizing how close Clarke was standing, brushing him as she turned, flushing even more. Matt's snicker turned to a laugh as he said, "Oh I know, she's two months and a week older," he teased.

"You forgot the three days, Matty-boy. Pro tip though, don't talk about a woman's age in the middle of a crowded bar," she mock glared, before looking up at Clarke with a shy smile, wondering what to do with her arms and hands.

"See, this is why it's good you came back home, I need you to keep me in line, Cal," he retorted, giving Clarke a slight eyebrow raise, both a warning and permission.

Clarke gave a slight nod before speaking. "I staked out an actual table, we should get back to it before the woo girls swoop in," he said, gesturing to the group of women with trying to balance cosmos while teetering on stilettos and dressed for much, much warmer weather.

Cailin didn't even try to hide her snort. "I was going to say I felt underdressed, but they make a more literal point," she said, gesturing to her jeans and v-neck thermal.

Clarke took quick, but appreciative, stock of her figure. Her choice of clothing comfortable, yet fitted enough to hug her curves in a way that almost made him envious while making her seem far more self-confident than the shrieking crowd that had tried to flirt the table away from him; and to him that was infinitely more attractive than any non-existent hemline. He smiled at her, feeling his pupils dilate with something closer to lust than he was comfortable with as his hand involuntarily rested on the small of her back as he led her through the crowd toward the table.

Cailin tried to ignore the butterfly colony trying to escape her stomach. Unsure if the feeling was stemming from his strong palm resting on her lower back, his fingers brushing against her lower spine or from his heated muscular form pressed against her, shielding her as he cut through the crowd on a clear mission. Whatever the reason, her anger from earlier was replaced with other firery emotions.

Clarke pulled out a chair at the high-top for Cailin. He had hoped they would have a chance to talk, about whatever had been bugging her earlier, about where they stood, where they wanted to stand; but the crowd was against them. As was the table, an island in the sea of inebriated civilians, most of 51 that was in the bar gravitated to their table, talking about all the antics that had gone on both in and outside the house during the blackout.

"You guys are as bad as middle school girls with your gossip," Cailin remarked as the news circulated around them.

"You telling me you lady cops don't gossip in the locker room, Callahan?" Mou asked with surprise.

"Cally only turns into a girl after a couple of bottles of wine," Gab retorted, giving her friend a smile.

Cailin gave a small grin back. Excusing herself to the restroom, trying to not feel overwhelmed by the people who had stopped by their table as well as feeling frustrated that she wasn't getting any 1-on-1 time with Clarke and feeling like needed it.


	20. Slow Burn

**Chapter 20: Hang Fire**

_A/N: Y'all I just realized this story has gotten as many readers in a month than my *formerly most popular* sequel that has been up for eight months! Y'all rock and are amazing. Hugs to all of you, especially my faithful reviewers who inspired me to write TONS yesterday! A special shout out to Ms Isabella for letting me sit at her table ;-)_

* * *

On her way back, she encountered Otis, nearly knocking her over and then stumbling an apology. "It's fine, but you do know you are off the clock, right? Where's the fire?" He stumbled out a "mix up time, meeting Katie."

"Katie as in Severide's little sister?" Cailin feigning amazement like she hadn't just heard about it, smiling at his blush. "You go, Otis! She's adorbs, you better treat her right, because pretty sure Kelly will kick your ass," she said, smirking at him.

Happy hour ending seemed to clear some of the crowd out, though it was probably just a break in between waves of people. It did clear out most of the 51 gang, until it was finally just Clarke and Cailin sitting at the table.

"Uh, you want to get out of here?" Clarke asked shyly the same time Cailin exploded, "Jeff, how could you, in that store?" They both stared at each other, slightly confused. Cailin spoke first, her anger taking over. "They could have killed you!"

"They could have killed you too!" Clarke shot back, trying to discern why she was so angry when she had lept out of her vehicle and gone charging toward the same gang. Gun or no gun, she had also been clearly outnumbered.

"I had a vest and a gun and while I'm not a Marine, I am a cop! It is my job to serve and protect."

"Yeah, well I'm supposed to be there when needed!" Clarke responded, his own hackles rising.

Cailin glowered at him, "excuse me for wanting you there when I need you!" She looked taken aback as soon as she said the words, managing to blush and pale at the same time and dropping her eyes to the table.

Something in her expression made his anger immediately dissipate. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, realizing what her anger and earlier quietness had been about. "Cally, look at me. I'm not going anywhere on you, I promise. You need me, just say the word, I'm there."

Cailin looked at him begrudgingly. "Yeah, well, you know what they say about the best laid plans."

Clarke couldn't help but smirk, "like fighting to get a table in hopes of having a private conversation with someone?"

"Here? Do you really think there is such a thing, in Molly's, Jeff?" she smirked back.

"Probably not, doesn't mean we shouldn't talk though."

His tone and expression both serious enough that Cailin looked around as the next wave of customers came trickling into the bar. "Walk me home?" she asked, putting cash under her empty pint glass and pulling on her coat. He nodded, mirroring her movements; the pair able to slip out the side door unnoticed.

* * *

They walked away from the bar, weaving through the neighborhood towards Gabby's. Cailin felt more like she was house-sitting than living there. The night was cold, though the streets and sidewalks were clear; their footsteps crunching on the salt the only sound as they walked side-by-side, brushing occasionally; each lost in their own thoughts.

Cailin wanted to try to explain her outburst, hoping it would take the sting out of her anger. "I just," she started, her voice piercing the dark. "The thing is..." she trailed off, frustrated as she tried to figure out what to say and how to say it. Clarke continued to walk patiently beside her, resisting stopping and turning her toward him, knowing she needed to keep moving. "I get that it has been almost two years, but some days, it feels like seconds. Even if we were only married for a hot minute. HR never even processed the damn paperwork," she said while speeding up, as though she was trying to put distance between them. Cailin stopped abruptly, turning towards him, "that's not my point. I've never been good at this kind of thing," she gestured between them. "Not to mention you recently spent a month in jail protecting your wife for a murder you ended up turning her in for." She turned, walking quickly away; unable to keep looking at him while she was trying to sort out her feelings.

Clarke had to practically jog to catch up with her, even with his long strides. He didn't know what to say; she had been honest, though that didn't make the situation any less complicated. He had wanted to talk to her so they could try to discern what this was or what they wanted. He could understand her hesitation and fears, he had plenty of his own.

"Cally, slow up, this is why I wanted to talk." Cailin did slow her pace, though she still kept walking toward Gabby's building up ahead. It was something, enough to have him say, "I should never have gone back to her. Hers wasn't the door I should have knocked on that day, no matter what you told me," he said, reaching for her arm to stop her forward movement, stepping so she had to turn to face him. "Cailin," he breathed, staring into her soul as much as her eyes.

Cailin looked up at Clarke, his hand still around her arm, his boots firmly planted outside of hers. Struck by the fact that she didn't feel trapped, didn't want to run...but, she couldn't allow herself to fall any deeper than she already had, at least not yet. She cleared her throat, "I just think I, we, might need to take this slow." She continued to look at him, her heart racing as his eyes darkened to nearer green than blue. "Slower than maybe either of us want to," she pointedly added.

"When you put it like that, Callahan," he teasingly replied, mostly to hide the fact that what he wanted to do was to move his hand from her arm, free her hair from its elastic and tangle it in his hands. Which is why when he did move his hands it was only to shove them in his pockets; instead of sliding them around her waist into hers. Wanting to press her form to his, his lips to hers, to drag her up the steps of the building in front of them. Wanting to take things anything but slow. Except he knew she was right, something proven by her next statement.

Cailin bit her lip, looking at him. "I mean it, Jeff, I need you in my life and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that."

Clarke studied her, seeing the fear, concern and confusion in her eyes. He was feeling those things as well, under the attraction. They both had been through a lot; he couldn't have handled any of the recent stuff without Cailin in his corner. Thoughts of her the only thing that kept that month from feeling like an eternity. He nodded finally, a slow and easy smile spreading across his face, hiding his own fears of losing her. "I already told you once, Cally, ball is in your court. You say take it slow, consider me a turtle."

"Maybe not turtle slow," she said, with her own glimmer of a smile, pulling keys out of her pocket and starting to climb the stairs, "just 'know better than to invite you in' slow," she finished, the smile now genuinely affixed on her face.

He looked at her, not wanting to convey disappointment or pressure. "Pretty sure you still have some sleep to catch up on, plus I should probably do some more studying for the Lieutenant's exam." Cailin looked up at him, feeling surprised she didn't know he was taking it and wounded that they had disconnected at all. He took in her look. "I haven't told anyone, Cal. Only really decided to try for it when I had all that extra time to think on my hands."

The smile reemerged, slightly bashful now, as Cailin looked down, shoving her hands in her coat pockets before looking up at him through her lashes. "I'm sure you'll pass with flying colors."

Mirroring her bashful demeanor, he shrugged, "we'll see." He cleared his throat, looking up at the building's front door, unsure of what the play was here. "Get some more shut-eye, Cally, you can't run on empty," he said, earnestly, withdrawing his hand to tug on her coat and landing a quick kiss on her cheek.

She nodded, replying, "you neither," as she climbed the top step, putting her key in the lock before turning back toward him. "I get that there are millions of far less broken women out there and I don't deserve your patience." Standing one step up put her on eye level with him, erasing some of her fear. She brushed her fingers over his temple, resting her hand on the back of his neck, leaning in to press her mouth against his, her heart stopping for the beat it took for him to reciprocate, unaware that he was forcing himself to maintain some semblance of gentlemanly decorum. She reluctantly pulled back, needing air as much as she needed to honor her own earlier request to go slow. "But I am damn glad I have it, Jeff Clarke," she said, still piercing him with her gaze.

He gave her one of his stoic half-smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "You've got a hell of a lot more than my patience, Cal, and I still stand by you just being bent, not broken; stop selling yourself short." He gave her one more firm kiss, before dropping his hand and stepping backwards down two steps. "Sleep tight, Callahan."

"See you around, Clarke," she replied with a wave before letting herself into the building.

* * *

Something about her talk with Clarke spurred Cailin to actually leave the precinct on time the next day. She was an adult, she needed to act like one. At least that is what Cailin told herself the entire drive down to pack up her meager belongings and return the truck to her brother.

She wasn't avoiding visiting, she had been to see her father plenty in the facility. Of course he had only recognized her twice, thinking she was a nurse on most of her visits. It was her mother's disapproving stares she couldn't take. Or her incessant questioning. The time and energy Mary Margaret had put into caring for the faltering Connie Callahan had to go somewhere and her only daughter was a good target.

Cailin had sent so many of her mother's calls to voice mail, the mail box was actually full. Between work and Clarke and dealing with the ghosts of her past, she didn't have the time or energy to deal with her. Cailin let out a sigh of relief as she pulled up; both Cole and Colin were there, the kitchen sink and garbage disposal scattered about as the pair watched the Blackhawks on TV while her mother folded clothing.

"Oh, so you do still remember where your mother lives," Mary Margaret announced as her daughter entered the living room.

Cailin closed her eyes for a long moment before replying, "I've been busy, Ma, keeping the streets safe."

"You know if you transferred down here you would have more time to spend with your family, maybe even get another chance at-"

"Ma!" admonished both her sons, partly because she was distracting them from the game and partly because they could see their sister's pallor as she made her way directly to the liquor cabinet, running for the stairs with a bottle of whiskey clutched in her hand.

Cailin stood, angrily breathing in and out in her childhood bedroom; chugging straight from the bottle before opening the two suitcases and dumping clothes in them. She had the bottle in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other when Colin knocked on the door, not waiting for a reply before opening.

"She means well, Cal, you know that," he said, ruffling her hair like they were kids.

"I know, Colly, I just wish she would stay the hell out of my uterus. It isn't like I intentionally sought out being a childless widow at 31!" she said, dropping to her old twin bed, biting back tears.

Colin didn't know how to react, his little sister didn't cry. He had seen her with broken bones and an ice skate blade to the head and not shed a tear. "Being married with kids ain't always what it is cracked up to be either," he remarked.

Cailin held up her hand, "don't even start, Colin or I will tell you exactly what I think about your life choices and don't think everyone else isn't talking about them when you or Anna aren't around."

"Alrighty then," he said, not wanting to open that can of worms. "I take it you found your own place?"

"Subletting up in Bucktown, from my friend Gabby, from ambo 61. She's actually in the academy now, you teaching anything this candidate class?" Cailin asked, knowing he had done so in the past.

Colin shook his head, "nope. Actually, speaking of my life choices, trying to spend more time at home; be a better man and all that. Since Pops, you know…" he trailed off. Cailin held out the bottle to her brother, who took it eagerly right as Coleman joined them, not even bothering with knocking.

"I love her to death, but I swear to God," he said, with a sigh. "You need any help up here, Cally?"

Cailin shrugged, pointing to the five neatly stacked boxes in the corner that she had shipped from New York and hadn't touched in the nine months she had been back. "Just those five boxes. Damn, that's sad, thirteen years away and I have five freaking boxes?" She shook her head, reaching for the bottle that Coleman was now clutching.

"You were busy being a New York City cop, you made detective in what 3 years? You have a Master's degree, for Christ's sake, life is a hell of a lot more than what you can fit in boxes," Colin remarked, giving her a look. The two brothers exchanged a look as their little sister just sat, taking a long pull of whiskey.

Coleman cleared his throat, "uh, we should probably wrap up here, so I can get you back up to the city and then finish up here. I gotta put in some cabinets bright and early in the morning."

* * *

They were halfway back to Gabby's before Coleman broached the subject, the rest of the drive taken up with the exploits of his children and wondering what their father's prognosis truly was. He cleared his throat like he had in her bedroom. "You ever going to tell any of us what happened back east, Cal? We aren't trying to pry, we are just worried about you."

Cailin let out a bark of hollow laughter, "what do you want me to say, Cole? I got my partner killed. It was just made a bit more complicated by the fact that I was married to him and had been in love with him for years and may have contributed to his first wife leaving him. Sure there was also all those poor underage girls also being collateral damage when I had my cover blown and my being tortured out on Long Island for two solid weeks by one of the biggest Eastern European traffickers until NYPD finally figured out where I was, but no big deal. Is that what you guys wanted to know? Feel free to put it in the next family newsletter."

"Shit, Cailin, really?" Coleman asked, dumbfounded. He knew she had been in the hospital, her husband dead and it had been job related, but somehow he hadn't put two and two together. He definitely didn't know about the rest. No wonder she seemed so fractured, he wasn't sure why she wasn't still highly medicated in a state hospital.

Cailin just raised her eyebrows, "really, Cole. Please don't give me that look, this is why I don't tell people. I am still here, still kicking, still trying my damnedest to be a good cop. I just couldn't do it there seeing Jimmy bleeding out in front of me every time I turned a corner, jumping at every loud noise. I'm doing a lot better, most of the time. The 2-1 has been good for me, so has being back."

"Yeah, I'm glad you've got Matt back in your life," he replied, studying her carefully.

She rolled her eyes, "you are about as slick as Ma, Cole. There is nothing, never has been, never will be ANYTHING between Matthew Casey and me. He is just like one of you. But it has been nice having him and 51 in my life. They are a good crew."

Coleman wondered if he didn't detect the slightest hint of color on his sister's cheeks. "51, huh? Any particular hose monkey over at 51 I need to have Connor or Colin looking into?" he asked as they pulled up in front of Gabby's.

"Don't even think about it, Cole," she admonished as they pulled the boxes out of the truck.

"Ah, so there is someone. Cailin's got a boyfr-oof," Coleman said as her elbow intersected with his abdomen.

"Just be glad I didn't shoot you, Cole," Cailin said with a grin.


	21. Fight Fire with Fire

**Chapter 21: Fight Fire with Fire**

_A/N: New month, new stats; let's hope this month is as good as the first! I am so excited about what's ahead for Cally & Clarke y'all! _

* * *

Cailin cursed herself for ever thinking she might have an easy day on the job or ever fully catch up on sleep. This becoming acutely obvious when the missing persons report came in on Kelly Severide's sister Katie. She intercepted it as Belden was trying to shove it off on anybody else, having an inkling this all went back to the blackout and the jerk Severide had thrown out of the firehouse.

"Fine, but if you want backup, you better find your own, Callahan," Belden said, dismissively.

Knowing the Keeler family's proclivity for violence, Cailin knew she did need backup; and considering a couple of rumors she had overheard at Molly's, she knew right where to go.

Arriving up at IU, Antonio Dawson looked at her and said, "please tell me you don't want my help, Callahan."

Cailin shook her head, "nope, not yours, hers," she said, pointing at Erin Lindsay. She walked over and put the file on the other woman's desk, flipping it open to Katie's picture. "She look familiar?"

"Isn't that?" Erin asked, her eyes growing wide.

"Yep, just reported missing. Was supposed to meet one of the guys from 51, Otis, Brian," Cailin corrected, "at 7pm night before last, didn't show. Didn't show to work, hasn't been home. You thinking what I am thinking?"

"Keeler," Erin breathed, already grabbing her jacket.

They didn't get much info questioning Katie's mother, step-father and sisters. The restaurant was little help either. Kelly Severide was beside himself with Otis not faring any better when they stopped by 51. "Damn it, I know that weasel had something to do with this, I should have taken him in when Kelly threw him out!" Cailin said, smacking the steering wheel in anger as they pulled back up to the 2-1. "But there isn't a damn thing we can do!"

"Isn't a damn thing Violent Crimes can do," Erin said with a look on her face. Cailin narrowed her eyes, not saying anything, working her jaw. Erin Lindsay studied the blonde carefully. Antonio and Jay both had good things to say about her, she was also well-regarded around 51. "Not a word to Belden," she started.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Detective Lindsay, Belden and I aren't exactly besties."

"Good. We have a great tech guy, he can wire up Keeler so we will know exactly where is he always. Mug like that, he'll let something slip soon enough."

Cailin raised her eyebrows, "you guys really don't color inside the lines up there in IU, do you?"

Erin cocked her head, "you got a problem with that, Callahan?"

"Hell no," Cailin said, slamming her door, "just let me know when you get something."

Cailin was pretty sure she didn't want to know how Erin got her information. Judging by the look on Severide's face and his bruised knuckles when they pulled up to the nondescript warehouse, Cailin was guessing the tap on Keeler wasn't what got them this address. Luckily, Katie was inside, bruised and battered, but alive. It was heartbreaking to ask Severide to step out of the room while she and Erin questioned Katie, but even more so when the girl revealed everything she had done to her. Cailin swallowed the bile rising in her throat, and her urge to strangle Keeler with her own hands. "You need a breather?" Erin asked, taking in the hate in Cailin's eyes as they left the room.

"I'm good," she said, going to splash water on her face as Erin briefed Severide.

"Maybe you should sit this one out," Erin suggested as she drove back to the precinct.

"Trying to steal another one of VC's collars, Lindsay?" Cailin replied, knowing that the woman's statement had merit, just not willing to let Keeler get off.

"Sometimes the best way to solve as case is to not work it, Callahan. I'm not trying to take a collar, I promise."

Cailin nodded, she could tell that the other detective was sincere. "Look, I know you could tell I got a little hot back there, and if I need to pull back, I will, but for now, I'm staying on. Deal?"

"Fair enough, deal," Erin replied, sticking out her hand to shake, "now let's go find Keeler."

Despite hours of searching, Keeler was in the wind, leaving both women extremely frustrated. "We aren't going to get anywhere else tonight, I'll let you know if I hear back from any of my CIs. Why don't you try to catch some sleep, Cally, we can pick back up in the morning," Erin said, giving Cailin a look that told her she wasn't asking.

* * *

Knowing full well Erin could have booted her off the case but didn't, made her nod before heading home. Deciding she needed a drink and not having stocked the bar yet, Cailin detoured a few blocks, needing a friendly face and a heavy pour, knowing Leslie Shay was working that night.

She was just walking up as Clarke and two, wait, were those, yep, hockey players, were coming out. "Rough day?" he asked, taking in her posture.

Cailin nodded, "Severide," was all she had to say for Clarke to turn to the pair and say, "go ahead, I'll catch up." The two Blackhawks players shrugged before walking off, leaving the pair standing beside the building. She barely tilted toward him, only a few degrees, yet it was enough for him to instantly draw her to his chest. "Bad, huh?"

"Sometimes I wish I didn't have to play by the rules of the badge," she said, breathing in his scent and comfort. "So your boys' night text makes more sense now, I think," she said with a slight smile as she moved back away from his embrace, "I wasn't trying to hone in, just touching base."

"I didn't figure you were, I'm glad you did. Maybe we can figure out our schedules, go somewhere other than Molly's?" he suggested trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, we should. Um, while I am sure you are a man of many mysteries, gotta admit I'm a little curious about that connection though," she said, hitcing her thumb in the direction the two guys had gone.

He shrugged, "oh, yeah, that. They caught their apartment on fire over when I was doing relief at 55. Good guys."

"For Blackhawk players," Cailin said with a smirk, "either way, I should let you get back to it. Thanks for the hug," she finished.

He pulled her back in, squeezing her tightly. "I mean it, Cal, if you need me, just say the word. They won't mind if I bail, I'm just some old Marine Corps guy that knows how to work a fire extinguisher to them."

"I hardly think that is the case, Jeff," she said, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss, "go, have fun, we'll catch up as soon as I can nail Keeler's ass to the wall."

Clarke fought down his desire at seeing the determination in her eyes, knowing Brent and Duncan were probably still close enough to observe him and Cailin. "I will hold you to that, Cally," he said, returning her kiss and then stepping back before he changed his mind.

"Have a good night," she said, giving his arm one more squeeze before turning to walk into Molly's.

"You going to leave me hanging, Callahan?" he called after her, a smile in his voice.

She turned to look over one shoulder, "see you around, Clarke, and tell those boys it's the Rangers' year."

* * *

Inside Molly's Shay was ranting to Cruz about the tip Clarke's 'boy scout buddies' had left her, Cailin couldn't help but snicker at Cruz going all fan boy over the guys and the tickets.

"Cally, you like hockey, don't you? Don't suppose you want to buy these stupid outdoor hockey tickets do you?" Shay said, waving at her.

"I kind of have other things I want to spend my money on, Leslie, but thanks," she said, making her way to a downtrodden looking Otis at the bar.

"Me too, Callahan!" Shay grumbled, "besides I'm certain your boyfriend probably already got you tickets," she continued with a wink.

"No idea what you are talking about, Leslie Shay," Cailin retorted with raised eyebrows, pulling out a bar stool.

She sipped her drink, waiting for things to calm about before moving down to where Otis was doing prep work. "Katie is going to be okay, Brian," she said, having seen him run out of the hospital before visiting, "but she'll be better quicker if she knows you are in her corner."

Cailin using his real name got his attention. He looked at her sheepishly. "I know, I just didn't know what to say or how to react. I feel like I should have done more to protect her, if I had't mixed up the time..." he trailed off.

Cailin reached across the bar to grip his forearm, "Brian, trust me, you will wreck yourself if you go down that path, I've been there. I've also been where Katie is and it a real dark and real lonely place and she will need every bit of light you can give her. Just be your normal dorky self, she obviously is into that kind of thing." She let his arm go and gave him a teasing smile.

"You think so?" Cailin nodded. "Yeah, well, what about Keeler?"

"How about you worry about fighting fires and let Detective Lindsay and I worry about chasing bad guys?" she replied, finishing her double and setting the glass in front of him. "I'm serious, though, don't knot yourself up over the past, just focus on the path ahead."

* * *

Cailin and Erin kept trying to track down Keeler the next couple of days, finally getting a hit on his car. "Piece of scum," Cailin sneered, as they listened in on the wire.

"Looks like he is heading back to mommy and daddy's," Erin said, "we're going to need backup for this." She looked around IU, Antonio the only one at his desk.

"Fine, better than doing paperwork," he said grabbing his jacket.

Erin looked at Cailin, chewing on her lip. There was something she wanted to do even though it definitely broke procedure, however given the look on Cailin's eye in the hospital, she doubted the other woman would have an issue. "I think there's someone I need to call as a ride-along, you mind catching a ride with Antonio?"

Cailin gave her a nod, knowing exactly who the other detective was going to call. "Yeah, not an issue."

Sure enough, Keeler's Caddy pulled up in front of his parents' house without them sitting in the cold for too long. "Cocky bastard," Cailin said, giving Antonio a look.

Antonio could see the rage barely contained in the woman sitting next to him, practically vibrating. "Just try not to leave a mark," he said as they exited the car.

Erin was the one that ended up getting to Keeler first, leaving more than a little mark with her weapon as he struggled against her. Cailin chewed on her cheek, trying to not gain satisfaction as she saw the blood well up on his face. She was able to keep a grin off her face, though she wasn't able to avoid rough-handling him through booking as Antonio and Erin went to check in upstairs. "Oops, sorry, step" she remarked almost perkily as Keeler fell flat on his face, "should have warned you," she replied blinking innocently at him before gesturing for a couple of uniforms to lift him back up. She kept her eyes wide and slightly empty, knowing he would most likely just write her off as a dumb blonde.

Which he did. "They giving out badges instead of cheerleading trophies?" he sneered.

Belden must have seen her going from booking up to IU because she had barely taken a seat next to Erin's desk when he came storming up, already yelling. "Callahan, you forget where your damn desk is?"

"I am well aware where it is, but you told me if I needed backup to find my own and none of your puppets down in VC do anything without you telling them to jump first, ergo, I came up here."

"Ergo, ergo my ass, don't think I don't know what you are up to-"

"Can I help you with something, Lieutenant?" Voight said, coming out of his office, having observed the exchange. He didn't want to get in the middle and he wasn't too fond of having someone not on his team up there, but both Dawson and Lindsay had vouched for Callahan with this case, so he was letting it go. But not if it was going to bring Belden and his crap up here.

"Not a damn thing. Detective Callahan and I were just leaving. Unless you really want to be bumped down to uniform?" the look on his face told Cailin he was genuinely considering it again.

Cailin cleared her throat, "no, sir." She gave the two IU detectives a pleading look. "Just let me know if you need anything from me on the paperwork."

Belden continued his tirade back in VC. "I don't know how to make this any clearer, Callahan, we don't work with IU unless my boss tells me we have to and even then, I try not to. They are trouble and they rush in without having all the facts. They don't understand how this city works. We have a way of doing things, there are people you mess with and people you don't. IU messes with everybody as they see fit. I know you think I don't like you, but you make my numbers look good. I'm actually trying to cover you ass on this one. You are off the Keeler case immediately, I don't even want to see you initials in the damn case file. Understood?"

Cailin felt a sinking feeling in her gut. Something wasn't right here. She had thought Belden didn't like Voight because he thought the other man was dirty; now she was wondering if it was because Voight didn't play by the same rules as other higher up in the department. Maybe Belden wasn't as much about proper procedure as she thought, maybe he was really more about power and climbing up to the ivory tower. Either way, she didn't like it. "Understood," she said, resignedly.

Cailin moped around the precinct the rest of the day, feeling useless and hating having been cut out of the Keeler case as well as being dressed down by Belden. She wasn't sure what to make of his reaction, unable to tell if he was more ticked off at her working with IU or with Keeler being arrested. Her uneasiness increased when she ran into an angry-looking Erin, pacing in the middle of the precinct. "What's going on?" she asked, blocking the other woman's path.

"We just got a call to cut Keeler loose," Erin replied, working her jaw.

Cailin squared her shoulders, "you have to me freaking kidding me, seriously? Katie identified him, he bragged on the wire, he hasn't even denied what he did!" Cailin spun out quickly. "Five minutes, give me five minutes with him before you cut him loose, I-"

She heard a throat being cleared behind her as well as a cut-off laugh. She turned to see Antonio and Jay standing behind her, Antonio handing Jay a twenty. "What was that?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest.

"What was what?" Jay asked, feigning ignorance.

She tapped her foot, setting her jaw, not moving until Antonio finally said, "we had a bet on how long before we heard you parrot a Voight-ism. I figured it would take you a couple more months of working cases with us. I was wrong."

"Great, just great, I am certain it will be fabulous for my career trajectory once word gets out that I am freaking mini-Voight!" she snapped.

Antonio shrugged, "things actually worked out pretty well for him, considering. Regardless, we aren't giving you any minutes. For your own good," he stressed, "get out of here, Gabby said there was a fundraiser or something going on at Molly's tonight, some school library 51 was helping out with, Why don't you go help, you can start with the $20 Jay's about to donate."

"Hey now," Jay protested until Antonio shot him a look.

Cailin looked at all three IU detectives before realizing they weren't going to budge. "Fine," she said with a sigh, "walk me out, Erin," she said, raising her eyebrows. "You going to tell Kelly?" she asked as soon as they were away from the precinct.

"He has a right to know," Erin replied.

"I agree, but I am guessing from the state of his knuckles, he isn't going to take the news well."

Erin looked at her pointedly, "I'm just hoping he takes it better than you."


	22. Another Log on the Fire

**Chapter 22: Another Log on the Fire**

As if sensing her anger and frustration, Cailin's phone rang. "Callahan," she answered without looking at it.

"Uh, Cally, it's me, Jeff. Clarke."

Cailin let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Hey, Jeff. Clarke. You are a sound for sore ears," she said, trying to put a smile in her voice.

"Really?" he asked, letting out his own breath. He knew he was falling for her from some time, probably since the first night her gaze got under his skin and into his soul at 51. This fact became undeniable the night of the blackout.

"Yeah, really," she replied, not having to force the smile this time.

Clarke cleared his throat, "so I know you've been busy with the Keeler thing, but 51 has been working on building a new library for Cooper Elementary, so Molly's is doing a thing tonight to raise money for books." He paused, wondering why he was having trouble just asking her to come.

Cailin waited a beat for him to continue, feeling a little let down when he didn't. When she said she wanted to take it slow, she didn't know he'd take this turtle thing so seriously. "Was working on the Keeler thing, Belden still doesn't share well; but that explains what Dawson was talking about," she finally said, rescuing him from his silence.

"So you were planning on coming?" Clarke asked, trying to hide his relieved excitement.

Cailin couldn't resist a slight dig, "I mean, I suppose I could." She couldn't tease for long. "Yes, I am coming, Jeff. I probably would have stopped by anyway, but since you called to invite me, at least I think that is what this was, I will definitely be there. In fact, I might even go home to change first; which is a pretty big deal after the couple of days I've had, passing the bar up first."

Clarke laughed, "I'll be sure to appreciate your sacrifice," he said, thinking it didn't matter if she was wearing a trash bag as long as it meant he got to see her. Yep, he was a goner. "And yes, that was my bad attempt at an invitation, so maybe you aren't the only one bad at this."

It was Cailin's turn to laugh, "I'll keep that in mind." She bit her lip, wondering if she would regret her next words. "I'm really glad you called, Jeff, I know it's dumb because it's been like three days, but I've missed you." Feeling her heart speed up and not wanting to hear his response, she rushed out, "well, I should go if I'm going to swing by home, see you in a bit."

Clarke stared at the phone as Cailin hung up, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Something about her being flustered admitting she missed him was endearing to him. With Lisa he had always felt like he was an inconvenience when he was around. Not to mention he had missed her every second he wasn't on a call. He shook his head, pulled on a black thermal and grabbed his coat, hoping she wouldn't take too long to get to Molly's.

* * *

It was official, Cailin hated everything in her suitcases and it looked like a bomb had gone off. Was it possible she didn't own anything other than boring dark suit separates, jeans, t-shirts and button-downs? She let out a strangled cry of frustration, before her eyes landed upon a bit of blue lace. She extracted the shirt from the pile, normally only wearing it under a suit to court, a glance at the clock told her it had to be right for this occasion as well.

Clarke kept looking at the door, trying to ignore the disappointment each time it opened and Cailin didn't enter. He was positive all of Molly's could tell by his expression the second Cailin did finally enter, looking a little overwhelmed by the crush of people. He took her in, her jeans clinging to her in a way that made Clarke clench his jaw, her leather jacket fitting her in a way he wished he could. "More beer," he croaked out, making his way to the bar. He turned to intercept her, "wouldn't want you to wait for one of these," he said, giving her a smile as he handed her a bottle.

"My hero," she said, before glancing around. "Nice crowd," she said, trying to not be nervous around him or overwhelmed. That had been one of her biggest issues in New York, the crush of people everywhere, the noise, the ramped up energy.

"I've got a table over there, just be nice keep your 'Hawks bashing to a minimum," he teased, giving in to his impulse to slip his hand around her waist, feeling electricity run up his arm as his fingers touched the juncture of lace and bare skin. "You'll have to kick Casey out, though be nice to him too, I had to stop his head from meeting concrete earlier."

Cailin had to focus in order to speak, the heat of his palm making her acutely aware of her exposed skin. "That kid, man, he's been on his ninth life since middle school," she finally forced out, before concern trumped her libido. "How is he really doing, Jeff? I kinda get the feeling he isn't really giving everyone the whole story. Not that I am one to talk."

Clarke gave a half-shrug, "I don't know, Severide's been on him lately and he seems a little off; though with head trauma, it's expected."

They were interrupted by Shay climbing on top of the bar, ready to raffle off the tickets she had gotten as a tip. "Guess I missed my chance," Cailin said as they made their way to the table, "at least its only against the Penguins."

"Good thing," he teased, ignoring the smirk Casey was giving him as he introduced Cailin. "Duncan, Brent, this is Cailin Callahan, friend of 51, one of Chicago's finest and, sadly, a Rangers fan."

"Cal or Cally is fine. I come by the Rangers thing honestly, but you are the home team and original six, so I'll be nice."

"Nice to meet you, Cally, and you're cute, so we'll let the Rangers thing slide," Duncan said, giving Clarke a little eyebrow raise.

Matt gave up his seat, standing next to the table just as the winner of the raffle was announced. Cailin tried to surreptitiously move her stool closer to Clarke's, able to do so as everyone's attention focused on Hermann revealing he had, barely, passed the Lieutenant's exam. Cailin looked at Clarke out of the corner of her eye, knowing nobody else knew he had taken it. He caught her meaning, squeezing her thigh under the table, leaving his hand there. She bit her lip to stop smiling, happy for him and thinking it was sweet he wasn't trying to steal Hermann's thunder.

Matt excused himself, an odd look on his face, enough of one that Cailin leaned over and said, "I'll be back, I just want to check on Matt."

"I'll be here," Clarke replied.

* * *

Cailin practically cornered Matt as he emerged from the washroom. "Spill it, Matty," she said, blocking his path.

"Spill what, Cally?" he asked innocently.

"Jeff told me you almost took a header today not to mention I've heard how you keeping being weird at work and I can't help but notice your bleeding freaking ear!" Cailin hissed, not wanting to gain attention.

He pulled her around the corner looking at her pleadingly. "You can't tell anyone," he said, looking around.

Cailin gave him a look, before putting her palm up to show the scar from their stupid blood-brothers pact as kids. "Seriously, Matt?"

"I've had some problems since the accident, memory loss, anger issues, dizziness," he said.

Cailin took in his look of concern and gave him a small smile, "sounds like me on a good day," she teased, "have you told a medical professional?"

Matt nodded, "yeah, I told my doc, she says it is fairly typical." He paused, Cailin just stood there. "Except I pretty much can't let it happen again, or lights out."

Cailin shook her head, "Matt, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you've been dealing with enough stuff on your own," he paused before sheepishly saying, "Coleman called me."

"Of course he did!" Cailin grumbled.

"Well I am glad he did, because you weren't telling me!" Matt shot back, anger rising in his voice.

Cailin looked crushed, hating making him angry. "I didn't want you to freak out, I knew you were still dealing with Hallie and I didn't want to bring you down more!"

"Cally, we've been best friends our entire lives, you have been through some of my worst days. Why won't you let anybody help you through yours?"

"Because that is what shrinks are for and it's just hard to explain; the nightmares, the freaking out, being a zombie, just shutting down…" she trailed off, finally adding, "feeling like a freak."

Matt looked at her, his gaze traveling to Clarke, realizing why their connection was so instant, glad it was. "Clarke," he stated.

Cailin flushed, "I guess so, I mean I'm not a combat veteran but Jeff gets me, I don't have to explain. It's easy. Well, as easy as a drastically complicated situation can be."

"You seem more like you when you're with him," Matt replied, "and if he can help you get back to that, then you should see where it goes."

Cailin nodded, "always gotta be right, huh, Matty? Though I might mention something about your second chance with Gabby and honesty usually being the best policy…" she trailed off, gesturing to the woman sitting alone. "Did I miss something?" she asked, cocking her head.

"She bust her ankle running the smoke test, didn't pass."

"That sucks," Cailin replied.

"Which is part of why I haven't wanted to tell her about this," Matt said, tapping his head.

Cailin snorted, "that is just stupid, Matt, she's going to find out eventually and she'll be pissed if it isn't from you. Go, tell her, now."

Matt narrowed his eyes, "fine, but you better give Clarke a shot." He stuck his hand out, waiting.

Cailin looked at it before she shook it. "Joke is on you, Matty, was already giving Jeff a shot."

* * *

Cailin arrived back at the table only to find Leslie Shay in her seat. She gave Clarke a smirk as Brent said, "don't go raffling these off, we would like you to be our guests at the game."

"Seriously, Shay, if you sell those," Cailin warned.

"Not such a Rangers fan now, are you?" Clarke teased.

Cailin rolled her eyes, "whatever, I just wouldn't want anyone taking advantage of them," she said before feeling her phone buzz, seeing a text from Erin Lindsay. "I should go," she said, "nice meeting you two, see you, Leslie," she said, waving to Brent and Duncan and giving her friend a quick hug.

Clarke slid off his stool, grabbing his jacket, "I'll walk you," he said without looking back.

Cailin stopped at the table where Gabby and Matt were at, giving him a look to which he nodded. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Gabs, I'm sorry about your ankle, there has to be something you can do, right?"

"Take the test again," Gabby curtly replied. Cailin did a double take, when she realized her friend was slightly cocking her head toward the glamazon that was standing next to the table.

"Er, hi," Cailin said, "sorry to interrupt."

"It's fine, I was just introducing myself to Lieutenant Casey. I'm Rebecca Jones, I was in the academy class with Gabriela, I was just assigned to truck 81," Jones said as her eyes flicked over Cailin with something reminiscent of a mean girl. Cailin had head about Jones from Gabby and could only imagine how her friend was feeling since Little Miss Cheater Legacy was assigned to 51. Cailin was about to feign politeness when Jones looked down at her saying, "you aren't a firefighter, right?"

Cailin felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. "Detective Cailin Callahan," Cailin said through a clenched jaw.

"A cop, really, wouldn't have guessed," Jones said, flicking her ponytail before zeroing in on Clarke. "Now you must be one, are you at 51?"

Clarke nodded, not enjoying the tension, mostly because he could tell Cailin was simmering. Moving closer behind Cal, ignoring Jones' outstretched hand. "Squad, Clarke. You ready, Cally?"

Cailin nodded, not wanting to square off with the new girl, but not liking the vibes she was getting off of her either. She nodded, "see you around," she said, striding toward the exit.

Clarke waited until they were away from Molly's before saying, "anything you want to fill me in on?"

Cailin shook her head, "nope, I don't want to cloud your opinion of someone who has to have your back in a burning building."

Clarke let it go as he noticed her shivering and put his arm around her, pulling her up next to him, glad to have the excuse. "Did you get taller?" he teased.

"Heels, a miracle I haven't gone ass over teakettle," she said, with a slight smile, nestling closer into his side.

Clarke let out a laugh, enjoying having her against him. He nuzzled her slightly, inhaling her scent. "You look nice with your hair down; and before you say anything, I don't mean you don't normally look nice. I just mean this is different, not different bad or different good, so take a compliment."

Cailin let out a laugh, slipping her arm around her waist, "I'm not even sure how to respond, other than to say woman clearly have done a number on you, Jeff Clarke. And I wasn't going to say any of those things. I was merely going for something other than looking like I stole my clothes from Leslie's closet and lost my hairbrush, so I'm glad it worked." She smiled up at him, tilting to give his cheek a quick peck.

"It worked," he replied, pausing to lean down to fully kiss her before continuing their walk. "Though speaking of Shay, don't think I didn't notice that smirk, Callahan."

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Brent and Duncan, the owners tickets," Clarke said, "did you seriously think I didn't have tickets?"

Cailin gave him a look. "Well, I figured you had tickets," she said.

He returned the look. "Cally, really?"

"Really, what?" she asked, wondering why he seemed exasperated.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Maybe he hadn't made it clear that despite agreeing to take it slow, he wasn't planning on taking it any speed with anyone else. "You do know you're coming with me, right?"

She shrugged, shuffling her feet a bit as she looked down at them. "I mean I don't want to presume anything," she mumbled.

He groaned, pulling her to him and kissing her before replying, "you are killing me, Cal. Why wouldn't I take you?"

She looked up at him genuinely. "I mean, I'm a cop, I could have to cancel, so why not take one of the guys? Or maybe a girl less, well, me than me," she admitted.

"Cally," he said, in that growling way that made her toes curl, "I know you are a cop, I know neither of us have normal schedules, that doesn't mean that you aren't my first choice. You, Cailin Callahan, are exactly the kind of girl I would want to take, anywhere." As she gazed up at him, her eyes had a light in them that caused his chest to constrict.

She rose up, putting her arms around his neck and leaning her forehead against his, "in that case, I'm looking forward to it, Jeff, really."

Their kiss somehow both heated and sweet, leaving them both breathless in front of the building. "Don't make me eat crow about going slow," Cailin said as she wriggled out of his arms.

Clarke somehow forced himself to say, "still your ball and court, Cally." He paused, forcing himself to widen the distance between them. "I am going to get to see you before that game, right?"

"I damn well hope so," Cailin said, briefly closing the distance, giving him one more kiss before adjusting her usual farewell to, "see you, soon, Clarke."


	23. Crash and Burn

**Chapter 23: Crash & Burn**

_As always, a special place in my heart for all my readers and reviews. I am still getting all kinds of follows/favorites and views, as well as those wonderful reviews (SO to ArmyBound since I couldn't PM you, your words meant a lot). This is not the cheeriest of chapters, dealing with Cally's past and a bit of a dust up with Jones; however I still promise a happy ending. ;)_

* * *

Cailin was beginning to think the universe was against her ever seeing Clarke again. They had made a handful of plans, including the hockey game and sort of dates; all of which Cally had to end up cancelling. Leads got hot, raids got scheduled, cases when to trial. Clarke understood, it just didn't make it any easier, most of their conversation was happening through text. Her complaining about Belden and venting concerns about Keeler and Clarke trying to cheer her up with anecdotes about 51. Which somehow made her miss him more. So, when Erin Lindsay stopped by her desk to see if she wanted to go by 51 to give Kelly an update, she didn't even look at Belden as she grabbed her jacket.

"This isn't going to go well," Cailin said, after Erin filled her in that Keeler was looking more and more like a free man. Cailin remained silent until they got to 51.

Cailin led the way, seeing the guys not at the squad table and heading over to the truck. The pair of women came up unnoticed as Otis seeming like he wanted in on a plan, freezing as soon as he saw them. Erin and Cailin exchanged a look. Cailin remained quiet while Erin filled them in, taking stock of the guys next to the truck. She knew without a doubt they were planning something. Her eyes met Clarke's for a moment, her jaw working before he looked away, refusing to look at them. Erin gave her firm warning, while Cailin remained blank faced, her blood boiling at the thought of Keeler getting off.

"So what are they planning, Callahan?" Erin asked on the drive back.

She held up her palms, "who says they are planning anything? I heard what you said, but would it really be so bad if Keeler had a little reminder that he should only pick on people his own size?" Cailin asked, her eyes flashing.

"You can't mean that, doesn't your badge mean anything?" Erin snapped.

"It does, but justice for victims means a hell of a lot more! Keeler is a worm and you and I both know it. This isn't the first time he's gotten off and he is just going to keep escalating until someone lets him know he can't just do whatever he wants. If we can't do that with a badge…" she trailed off, her words sitting heavily. She rubbed her temples, "I don't know, Erin, I know we can't condone vigilante justice, but I can't condone Keeler doing what he did to that poor girl. What if it was your sister? What if it was you?"

Erin just shook her head, "maybe it is for the best that you aren't working this case, Callahan."

"Maybe so, Lindsay," Cailin said, slamming the car door shut behind her.

That night's raid, and reason fro the latest cancelled date, was successful. Though an underage victim meant Cailin had to stay with the kid until social services came. She fell into bed, exhausted; only realizing she had missed Clarke's calls after her nightmares woke her up. They had plagued her since Jules' death and this Keeler debacle. When she called him back, she could immediately tell by noise he was at Molly's. "Raid ran long, kid involved, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said.

"It's fine, I was just grabbing a drink with some ugly squad mugs," he said, "and Otis. I'm glad you called back." He ignored the looks they were giving him, "just wanted to see if you wanted to catch a bite or something."

"Sure, I'll meet you at Molly's" she said, trying to pull herself back to the present and away from the terror of her nightmares.

* * *

Clarke could tell she had barely slept as soon as she joined them at the bar and that something was weighing on her. It didn't help that the guys all shied away from her, even as she pleaded, "I'm off the clock boys, already got kicked off the Keeler case as well, just here for the beer." It worked until Detective Lindsay came in, informing them that Keeler had gone missing, giving Cailin a cold shoulder, Cailin returning an equally icy stare. "I don't want to know," she said to them, her voice tight, holding up a finger, "but I wouldn't shed a tear for him either."

He could feel her trembling next to him, giving the guys a look, leading her to one of the few booths in the back. It afforded them the smallest slice of privacy. He tried to lighten the mood, telling her about the Connie and Mouch face-off over the couch and Jones' horrible attempts at cooking. She tried to play along, appreciating his efforts, though she still felt off. He saw her empty pint and offered to get them another round, quickly returning with empty hands as he slid next to her. "Hermann just floated the keg," he paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I could grab us something else or we could wait or..." he paused. Cailin looked at him, catching the expression in his eye, trying to discern what it was. "We could head out, get something to eat. There's a great Vietnamese place around the corner from my place, didn't you say you were still looking for good pho? We could get takeout?"

Even in her slump, her heart fluttered. She had missed Clarke; just seeing him at the bar had given her a sense of calm. She wasn't sure if he was suggesting takeout because he could tell she wasn't in a place to handle people or because he was asking her back to his place. She also wasn't sure how to handle the warm glow spreading throughout her at the very idea of the second part. Before she could over-analyze it, she nodded, saying, "yeah, that sounds great, I'm just going to run to the restroom and find Dawson to giver her a rent check."

"I'll be right here," he said, moving to let her out, giving her a smile and a small finger salute. She wished she had done more than throw on a crumpled pair of jeans and sweater. She walked up to the bar when she heard Rebecca's voice coming from where she just left. "I can't believe you are sitting all alone over here, Clarke." Cailin could practically hear the woman putting her assets on display. She snapped the pretzel rod she had just grabbed from the snack bowl in front of her.

"You okay?" Hermann asked, giving her a strange look.

"I'm fine," she said, hearing Jones continue, "oh come on, unless you're afraid of being beat by a girl. I don't think I've had anyone refuse me before." Cailin turned slowly, clenching her fists. She spied the other woman, lounging against the booth, a hand resting on Clarke's forearm, tossing her hair back, tipping her head back. It was then she turned to stare directly at Cailin, her eyes telling the other woman she had waited for her to leave the booth. Cailin felt like she was gut-punched "Hermann, give me a shot of whiskey, now," she said. "On it," Hermann said, immediately complying. Cailin downed it easily before she strode toward the restroom.

* * *

Cailin splashed cold water on her face, trying to get her emotions under control. She was stupid to think she could compete with someone younger, taller, prettier, and without the emotional baggage she was hauling around. Even if she and Jeff were on the cusp of something, how could he pick the shell of a woman Cailin was over the whole package Rebecca Jones. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it back into a bun when it refused to be tamed. She caught sight of her scar in the mirror, the flush of whiskey and anger causing the white mark to stand out angrily.

Jones entered the bathroom, preening next to her, the metal medallion of her purse clinking against the sink and echoing in the bathroom. Cal stiffened at the sound, staring at their reflections as Jones spoke. "I know a great plastic surgeon who could look at that for you, went on a couple dates with him-"

Cal cut her off with an angry glare. "Spare me the buddy buddy act, Jones, I'm not a moron."

Jones at least had the courtesy to drop her fake smile. "Look, I saw you the other night in here with Clarke and asked around the house about you two and I can't figure out what your deal is. He is a an attractive guy and if you aren't taking advantage of the situation..." She dug around in her purse, calmly reapplying a coat of lipstick.

The metal chain of her bag clinked again, the light catching the silver case of her lipstick, glinting. Cailin's stomach dropped, part of her leaving the bathroom of Molly's and going back to that tiled room with Nansenko...Cailin clutched the sink, willing the world to stop tilting, panic and anxiety welling up. Fear of losing Jeff briefly overtook her panic. "I don't know what our deal is, Jones, " she replied shakily, her voice hollow. "We agreed to take things slow. I just have some stuff, I just need a chance..." She trailed off, lifting her head just enough to look at Jones in the mirror, haunted.

Jones nodded, looking slightly frightened, "gotcha, taking it slow. Just don't miss your chance, Callahan, because I will take mine." She strode out head high, while Cailin's last remaining strength gave way and she slid down to the floor, leaning against the cold porcelain bowl of the sink.

Gabby entered seconds later. "Cally, Hermann said you were looking for me. Did something just happen with Jones?"

Cailin opened her closed eyes, "I'm fine, got overheated. I've got your rent check." She pulled herself up, handing the check to Gabby, saying, "have a good night Dawson," before rushing out.

Clarke was still sitting at the booth, looking slightly uncomfortable. He looked up as she approached, breaking into that shy smile of his. "I think you and Dawson are crossing paths. She find you?" Cailin nodded, afraid to speak. "Is everything good?" he asked, taking in her expression, noticing that she was running a finger along her scar.

She half nodded again, clearing her throat and croaking out, "yeah, I'll be fine, but I think I need a rain check for dinner. I just, um, need to," she gestured, toward the door, her eyes growing wider and wider.

He recognized the look of someone trying to not drown in crushing waves of panic that blew in from nowhere without warning or logic, he just hadn't seen it so acutely on her recently.

She reached for her coat, hanging on a hook outside the booth, throwing it on hastily, even though she hated the idea of any extra weight on her. "I'm sorry, thanks for the offer, I swear it isn't you, I just..." trailing off again she gave him another wide-eyed look, "see you, around, Clarke," she spit out before practically running for the door.

* * *

The cold air rose up to greet her, the snow crunching under her boots. She ducked around the corner, resting her shoulder against the hard bricks as she fought to catch her breath. Oxygen out of her reach no matter how she gulped at the night air. She leaned forward, resting her hands on her thighs, held up mostly by the building. So many doctors said this was all normal; that didn't stop her from being blindsided by the panic.

"There you are. Hold on, I've got you," came Clarke's voice, calm and soothing beside her; picking her up before she fell into the snowdrift. Echoing what he had said the day of the train derailment. "You're okay, everything is fine, you just have to let yourself breathe. Look at me, Cailin," he said, one arm still holding her upright, the other gently nudging her chin up so his eyes could lock on hers. "That's it. Nice and easy, slow breaths, stop thinking about it, it's a reflex, remember?" He kept on hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile as he coached her, until the light crept back into her eyes and she took in a large gulp of air and held it, closing her eyes and letting it slowly out.

She opened her eyes again, looking at him with a mix of gratitude and shame. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"No worries," he leaned back against the building, forcing his posture into one of relaxation, despite his heart seizing up as he saw how much anguish Cailin was in and wanting to protect her from the crushing darkness he knew she felt. "That been happen again?" he asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

Cailin nodded, embarrassed, "since Jules and this thing with Keeler. I thought I was better. I'm sorry, Jeff, apparently I'm still a mess."

"Hey, now," he said bumping her lightly with his hip, "cut yourself some slack, Jones can be pretty terrifying and she wasn't even touching you," he teased. Making her laugh, which is what he wanted.

She leaned her head against the bricks, closing her eyes, slightly hoping to disappear into the snowdrift she was sinking into. "You must think I am practically schizo. I'm acting like such an idiot, I don't know what my deal is." She shook her head, opening her eyes, "look, thanks for the talk through. I'm going to walk to Gabby's, hide in my cave until I'm ready for the world."

"I don't think you are crazy or an idiot, I've been there. And I'm not letting you go back to your cave alone either. Come on, I'm driving you."

* * *

Clarke didn't just drop her off, he insisted upon coming in, making sure she wasn't going to fall apart.

"I'll be fine, Jeff, I'm sorry I ruined your night," she protested, sitting on the edge of Gabby's couch, feeling ashamed.

He sat next to her, reaching out and rubbing her back without thinking, happy she didn't flinch or pull away. "You didn't ruin my night, you walking into Molly's made my night, Cal." He wanted to say more, but didn't want to make her feel pressure after her panic attack. She merely nodded, her jaw tight, he could tell she was still coming down and trying to not cry. "Come here," he said, putting his arms around her and cradling her; wanting to magically absorb her pain.

She squirmed slightly before giving in, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck before forcing herself to get it together. She pulled away, rising from the couch and gesturing to the door, "as I said, still a mess. You can go, I will totally understand if you want to pretend you never met me."

Clarke sat there, looking slightly confused before he rose as well. "I'll go if you want me to, but there is no way I could or would want to forget I met you, Cal. If you need some space, I understand. If you insist upon calling yourself a mess, so be it; but you are my mess." He hung back, wishing he could provide the same peace she gave him.

Cailin felt torn between her heart swelling at his sentiment and fear coursing through her veins. Every time she thought she was moving ahead, something seemed to set her back. Not to mention she was positive she couldn't win or even compete against the likes of Rebecca Jones. "I don't know what I need, Jeff, just when I think I have a clue…" she trailed off with a shrug, "I need to be alone tonight." She saw the look of disappointment in his eyes and was quick to add, "I wish that wasn't the case. Just like I wish we could get out schedules together or that I wasn't-" she broke off, not willing to admit she was terrified because she was in love with him. She took a deep breath, stepping towards him, reaching out and laying a palm gently on his chest. "I hope I still have your patience, Jeff, even though I know that isn't fair."

He worked his palm up against hers, threading his fingers through hers, before kissing the back of her hand and then holding her gently around the waist. "Still got it, Cal, and then some. I can see you are exhausted, you should get some sleep; dinner first, though, and something other than whiskey." Cailin nodded, entranced with his eyes on hers, his strong hands encircling her, keeping her grounded.

Despite that, she still nearly shoved him out the door; though she did pause, laying her head against his chest as he gave her one more hug. "Thanks for saving me, Clarke," she said, as close to admitting her feelings as she could get.

"Back at you, Callahan," he replied, giving her a smile that he hoped hid his concern for her.


	24. Blowing Smoke

**Chapter 24: Blowing Smoke**

_A/N: Alright readers, I am challenging you! I really would love to get to over 100 reviews with this chapter, so get to it. Good, bad, ugly; I want to hear it. I am struggling with a bit of writer's block and would love some feedback as writing guidance. _

* * *

Despite telling Clarke she needed solitude, Cailin immediately knew she didn't. She debated calling him, but was too embarrassed over her panic-attack and essentially kicking him out.

She sat in the dark thinking she might never be whole again. If stupid Jones' purse could give her flashbacks, what might be the next trigger. She had hoped in leaving New York she was leaving this all behind. Maybe it was just Katie's attack, yet she had worked with plenty of similar victims and it wasn't like Nansenko had actually…Cailin shook her head, looking down at her phone, Gabby calling to check on her.

She talked to her friend, agreeing to attend some tapas party Gabby was hosting for visiting family. Gabby tried to ask about what happened with Jones, Cailin changing the topic; as she did when asked what was going on with her and Clarke. Matt's health was a good deflect, Gabby needing to rant about his keeping it a secret.

She hung up, ignoring Detective Lindsay's texts. While she didn't think the guys had actually done anything, she didn't want to know and she wouldn't blame them if they had. If that made her a bad cop, so be it. Hadn't getting her cover blown, underage victims dumped, sold or killed along side her partner already proven that? Voight and Belden weren't exactly paragons of the badge and they kept getting promoted. So she didn't think twice about texting Severide to let him know he would probably be getting an invitation down to the 2-1.

She wasn't shocked when Belden called her into his office the next morning wanting to know what she knew about Keeler's disappearance. She looked at him, stone faced, replying, "Nothing, sir, I'm not working that case. Have you talked to IU?"

Belden's eye twitched. "I still know what is going on in this precinct, Callahan, even if I don't like working with upstairs. Don't think I don't know about your hose jockey friends down at 51, they started this whole mess in the first place."

Cailin was immediately enraged. "Excuse me, they started it? I am pretty sure it was Keeler who beat a guy because of something the dude's brother did, Keeler who put a hit out on Severide and almost cleaned Casey's clock, Keeler that Katie identified as her kidnapper and rapist. You want to explain to me why you keep acting like Keeler is the HMFIC?"

"Don't push me, Callahan. I am still your commanding officer and I will stick you down in the freezer so fast."

Cailin merely raised her eyebrows thinking cold cases were better than his threat of sticking her back in uniform. "Are we done, sir?" Belden nodded, glaring at her.

She repeated her performance upstairs a couple of hours later when Voight called her to the carpet. "Don't suppose you were at a late-night diner with Severide as well, were you Callahan?" Voight asked, as soon as she entered his office.

She drew in a quick breath, so Jay had told him about the diner and Clarke. She should have known, IU was a wolf pack, nothing would stay a secret. "I have no knowledge of Vincent Keeler's whereabouts or the circumstances of his disappearance, sir," she said, wondering why the man unsettled her into passivity while she was willing go toe to toe with Belden.

He studied the detective for a long moment, having read her jacket after Antonio left it on his desk. She had an impressive clearance rate, willing to go undercover for long stretches, using her young and innocent looks to her advantage, clocking endless hours until she got injured. She clearly had the fire, yet after his discussion with Erin, he wondered if it wasn't burning a little too hot. Voight knew that seemed hypocritical but he had years of experience of knowing when to tap the brakes. "If that changes, detective, your first call better be to me. Being kicked back to uniform would be a walk in the park compared to…" he paused, "just keep me in the loop." Cailin gulped, unable to speak. "And even though you aren't part of this unit, I am still giving you the official command to not talk to anyone outside of here about this case. Understood?"

"Loud and clear," she said, realizing she was shaking and ignoring the looks from everyone in IU as she rushed out.

Cailin was guilty relieved for an onslaught of cases keeping all of VC non-stop busy. This allowed her to ignore the texts from Severide and Otis, as well as keeping her mind off of Clarke. Which was good considering she was almost paralyzed with embarrassment over how she had acted the last time she saw him.

* * *

Clarke left Cailin's, or Gabby's as she insisted on calling it, feeling like it was the last thing he should do. He had already regretted letting her push him out once, though he knew far too well what it was like to try to put yourself back together after coming apart at the seams. He also could tell she felt embarrassed; so he didn't do more than send her a handful of texts over the next couple of days.

He wasn't entirely sure what had set her off at Molly's; he knew Jones had something to do with it, which is why he wasn't surprised by any of the Candidate's antics over the next couple of shifts. The woman had an edge about her, obviously used to getting what she wanted, yet somehow constantly trying too hard. It rubbed him the wrong way.

He wasn't about to press Cailin, guessing she was swamped at work; plus he knew both Severide and Otis had been down to the 2-1. He hoped she wasn't caught in the middle on this, the case had already spooked her enough. Clarke found himself wondering what details she had left out about what happened in New York. Nothing would change his opinion of or feelings for her, he just wanted desperately to help her heal, to feel whole again.

He still struggled with that himself. The night terrors sneaking in, reminding him part of him got left over in the desert; the intense flare ups of anger, though those had greatly diminished since being with Cailin, the occasional feeling of watching the world go by as though he were above it. Despite connecting to Cailin and the guys at 51 and moving forward, Clarke still felt like something was missing.

He tried to ignore his indigence at Hermann's announcement of a vasectomy, refusing to contemplate what that was about. Except he was envious of the other man's home life. Part of him had always wished for that; some of his motivation for marrying Lisa had been the hope they would be like so many other military families: a happy base wife and a passel of kids. He was now grateful that hadn't happened, knowing it would have been a trap of misery and resentment for them both. Clarke couldn't help wondering if the window had slammed shut on his ever feeling complete. He prayed it hadn't, for either him or Cailin. He shook his head, jumping to action as the call for a collapsed stairwell came in.

* * *

She wrapped up her last case, rushing to get to Molly's for Gabby's party. Somehow it had also morphed into an anniversary party for Hermann and Cindy, as well. She was trying to pretend she wasn't making an extra effort in case Clarke was there. Though as she removed the tags from dress she bought in-between calls, she knew she was. She was hurriedly applying make-up when Erin Lindsay walked in taking in her appearance. "Hot date?" she inquired.

"Just a thing at Molly's, Gabby's family is in town," Cailin explained.

"Ah, so that's why Antonio dropped that file on my desk," Erin said, before looking intently at the other woman. "You know anything about Benny Severide dropping by?"

Cailin slumped back down on the bench, rubbing her temples before replying. "Erin, I know you think I'm half-cocked, but I heard what Voight said and I respect him as a CO far more than my actual boss. I haven't talked to anyone about the Keeler case."

Erin cocked a hand on her hip, "I know you want justice for Katie, we all do. Have you ever considered that Keeler rotting in prison might be more of a punishment than the alternative?"

The question struck Cailin. She had often wondered the same thing about Nansenko. How much she would have loved to face the man down in court, even if it meant going over every last dirty detail, to know he would rot until someone stuck a needle in his arm. Except Nansenko had been nailed to the wall and Keeler was a threat; his hooks in higher-ups, a psychopath escalating. Those kinds of threats better eliminated. "Yes, Erin, I have. But I've also thought about the alternative, of the fall out when Keeler inevitably walks again; so maybe Keeler missing isn't so bad." The women stared each other down until Cailin looked at the clock, "I gotta go."

* * *

The party was clearly already full-swing when she arrived, people and music spilling out from the pub. She stepped in, feeling slight trepidation and definitely glad she had dressed for the occasion, though she still felt less glamorous than the other attendees. She saw Matt right off. "Hey, how did it go with Cindy?"

"Shockingly well, I guess after 20 years of marriage Hermann does know her after all," he replied with a smile.

"Good to know there's hope," she said, returning his smile even though she felt a bit wistful all of a sudden.

Matt saw her face fall. "Gabby was asking if you were coming, you should look for her and get some of the sangria," Matt said pointing, "oh and she's getting to take the exam again!" His excitement was clear on his face, she was happy for him and them.

Cailin made her way through the crowd, saying hello to the people she knew and forcing a smile to the people she didn't. She caught up with Gabby, but her hostess duties prevented her from doing much more than thanking her for coming. "Thanks for inviting me. Oh, and congrats on the exam Mulligan, you'll kick-ass, I'm sure," Cailin said, giving her friend a big smile.

"Thanks, I hope so. Heard things are busy at work."

Cailin nodded, "you know it."

"Someone had to keep us safe," Gabby said with a sunny smile before looking around, "anyway, I should get back. Clarke's looking for you, he's over there."

Cailin forced her way over, taking in the women in their far sexier dresses and killer heels, feeling dumpy despite making an effort. The feeling exacerbated as she stopped dead in her tracks, seeing Rebecca Jones laughing uproariously next to Clarke, clinking her glass with his at whatever joke made. A dancing couple bumped her, causing her to lunge forward, right in Jones and Clarke's direction. Jones looked at her with distaste, Cailin bet the girl probably had never tripped a day in her life.

Clarke, however, reflexively reached out to catch her. "Making an entrance?" he said, giving her a smile as he righted her. With his hand moving from her arm to linger on her waist, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

She was able to smile back at him but only momentarily as Rebecca had already somehow managed to wedge herself between them. "You missed all the fun, Callahan, including the best cake ever," she said, giving Clarke a look with raised eyebrows and a mischievous grin.

Great, they had inside jokes. "I need a drink," Cailin replied, moving as quickly as she could for the bar. Otis swamped behind the bar, working all alone. Looking over her shoulder at the exuberant crowd, catching sight of Jones still flirting with Clarke, she walked to the far end of the bar, drank a slug of whiskey and dove in to help Otis.

She had just finished making endless mojitos when she saw Jones leading Clarke toward the side exit. "Of course," she said, giving in to Gabby's family who kept trying to get her to take shots with them.

It was forever before the crowd thinned. Which was good, because it kept Cailin busy enough to forget seeing Clarke leave with Jones. As soon as she recalled that fact, she reached for the bottle of Jameson, downing a double. She probably should have switched brands by now, but somehow that felt like betrayal. Otis gave her a look to which she snapped, "what?" which kept him quiet.

* * *

_A/N: Please don't hate me, I PROMISE there is all good soon! :)_


	25. Light My Fire

**Chapter 25: Light My Fire**

_Wow! Y'all I am speechless and a little taken aback. THANKS for he help, it got me out of my rut! And now a plug for Ms Isabella's story "It's All Coming Back to Me Now". I am telling you, I wasn't even that much about Cruz until reading her story and I feel like her OC (Taylor) and Cailin would be fast friends. Her other OC (Katie) would be as well (if it wasn't a Clarke/OC story; because that would be AWKWARD)! You should read them while waiting on my updates, because I might not get to write for the next few days and I wouldn't want y'all getting bored. Xoxo, M_

* * *

It was at that moment Cailin realized Clarke was either still there or had come back. It was also the moment she realized she hadn't eaten and was more than a little tipsy. She felt her face grow warmer as Clarke made his way to the bar.

"What can I get for you, Clarke?" she asked, stiffly, wiping down the bar to avoid looking at him.

"I turn around for one second and you disappear on me to tend bar," he said, his tone light but concerned.

She shrugged, "Otis looked swamped, figured I would lend a hand." She hoped she seemed nonchalant, but she was dying of curiosity; had he left with Jones or not?

"Yeah, but…" he trailed off, was she slurring her words?

"You seemed rather occupied," Cailin said, the whiskey making her bold, her insecurities making her jealous.

Yep, slight slur detected, though he wasn't sure anyone else would notice. "I'll take a pint," he said, finally; trying to figure out why she had disappeared behind the bar and why her eyes were glinting with anger.

She poured his favorite IPA, sliding it towards him, their fingers brushing, her loosened tongue asking, "where did you go with Jones?"

Ah, so that was it. "Jones made me walk her out like she couldn't hail a cab on her own, and then she tried to make me get in it with her," he replied, shaking his head. Cailin's reply was a hiccup. He couldn't hide his smile. "Callahan, are you drunk?"

"A little," she admitted, ducking her head before chugging a water, feeling stupid and guilty. "But you didn't get in?" she queried.

He wrinkled his brow at her question, "in the cab, with Jones, why would I do that?" Cailin didn't reply, going through the motions of closing up the bar. Clarke knew they needed to have another talk about their relationship, going slow or not. And given Jones' near assaulting him tonight, he knew he needed to, very clearly, inform the candidate that he wasn't interested. "Cally, stop, Otis can get that," he said, catching her wrist. "Let's get you home, it's late." He gripped tighter until she looked at him. "Please?" he breathed.

Cailin nodded, unable to deny him anything with him looking at her like that; ducking back under the bar towards him. She readily accepted Clarke's arm, regretting mixing her alcohol, waving goodbye to the few people still left. Clarke opened the car door for her and luckily they were at Gabby's in minutes. Cailin feeling every last drop of liquor coursing through her veins despite being a seasoned drinker from a family of drinkers. She practically vaulted out of the car as soon as it pulled up to the curb, unable to handle being confined.

Clarke tightened his jaw, though he still followed her. He knew any conversation wouldn't be productive given her current state of inebriation; but he refused to let her hide, not wanting to let things fester. "Let me know if you need me to hold your hair back, Cal," he said, following her inside.

She turned enough to glare at him, "I am fine, Clarke, I'm a pro." Though she did walk to the kitchen to guzzle more water. She caught sight of the clock on the stove and winced, "damn it's late, and I've got to go back at the precinct to finish up paperwork super early. That's going to suck," she admitted, feeling suddenly awkward as he hovered in the doorway. "Want anything? Keep in mind I've not really been around the past week or so," she added.

"I'm good," he said, studying her, wondering what she had mumbled back at the bar. "You do know I never would have gone with Jones," he said, stepping towards her.

"I guess I don't, because I thought you had," Cailin admitted.

"Cal," he sighed, tensing his jaw. "I'm not going to get into this right now. I'm picking up a couple of shifts over at 25, so I'll be on back-to-backs. But after that, let's grab some dinner and talk. Somewhere other than Molly's," he added pointedly.

"Really?" Cailin replied sounding surprised enough that Clarke had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, instead pulling her to him and saying, "really. Now drink some more water and get some sleep, would you?"

* * *

She hadn't planned to go to Molly's the next night, in fact she had wanted to avoid the place entirely after getting sloshed there the night before. She also didn't want to run into Jones, unsure of her ability to contain herself. But between working the bar and drowning her sorrows, she had somehow left her wallet there. Otis had thankfully put in the safe for her and she needed to retrieve it. She was waiting for him return with it when Jones appeared next to her.

"Clarke's not here you know," she said with a Cheshire grin.

"I am aware, I was just getting my wallet, left it here last night," Cailin replied curtly.

"Good to know you managed to have a good time last night," Rebecca flipped her hair, "it's too bad you came late. Or maybe it isn't, it was nice keeping Clarke company. You do know he almost came home with me, don't you?" she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Cailin wanted to call the other woman out, Jeff said he never would have gone with her and she trusted him; but something prevented her. "How dare you?" was her reply instead, slamming the side of her fist against the bar with emphasis.

To her credit, Rebecca didn't even flinch. She instead cocked one eyebrow and put her hand on her hip, saying coolly, "I told you I would take my chance. Frankly, I am surprised you haven't taken the bull by the horns. But maybe you are pining for Lieutenant Casey or that partner of yours back in New-" she didn't get to finish her sentence as Cailin's palm intersected with her face, the creamy flesh instantly turning pink. Rebecca's eyes grew wide and her jaw tensed but she didn't move a muscle.

It was Shay who intervened, pulling them towards the staff restroom, located away from prying eyes in the storage room. "One of you better tell me what is going on here because I am pretty sure the guys are ready to sell tickets to watch you two!"

"Ask her," Cailin said, jerking her jaw towards Jones, who was standing rather smugly, despite the imprint on her cheek. She wondered where the candidate had gotten her misinformation from. Not that it matter, but something about Jones bringing Doyle into this was more than Cailin could handle. However, it had also sparked something in her that was willing to fight to the death for Clarke. "I told you Jeff and I were taking things slow, I practically begged you to give us space!" Cailin's voice was low and hissed, anger practically vibrating her body.

"Oh lighten up, I was just having fun, you do know what that is don't you, Saint Callahan?" Jones knew she was baiting the other woman, but she wasn't expecting her to practically vault over Shay to try to get at her.

"Chill the hell out, both of you. Callahan, you are a cop, pull yourself together. Jones, you are a candidate in a bar filled with your superiors, act like it!" Shay demanded, giving them both looks that warned them to straighten up.

Cailin took a deep intake of air, pulling her hair back into its ponytail and tucking her shirt back in. "You're right, Leslie, I apologize. I shouldn't have brought this in here. I'm going to head out and stop being that girl." She glared at Jones with the last two words. "Have a lovely evening, Rebecca," she said, though her jaw remained tense. She strode out before the other woman could respond.

Cailin had almost made it to the door when Matt caught hold of her elbow. "Hey, where you going, Cally, I thought you were off tonight?"

"I am, Matt, but I'm not in the head space for people, I'm gonna go home."

He had a pretty good idea which person she didn't want around, but he also had a good idea what kind of bad head space she was in. "I'll give you a ride," he said, sliding off his stool.

"I am fine Matt. Besides, I think Gabby will be done soon." She gave him the same look she had given him their entire lives, the one that said there was no use in arguing.

Didn't stop him from wanting him to. "At least let me walk you out, Cailin, can you give me that?" She nodded, curtly, working her jaw.

He waited until nobody else around before saying, "you going to let me know why you almost took my candidate's head off?"

Cailin shook her head, feeling awash with embarrassment. She had acted like a middle school girl and for what? Because Jones had commented on Clarke's good looks and had flirted with him? He was attractive, she had witnessed plenty of women flirt with him. But usually it wasn't coming from some gorgeous woman stationed at his house or after she had pushed him away or when they couldn't get their schedules to sync. Not to mention the woman had completely disregarded her request, some much for sisterhood.

Casey studied her, unable to tell if her red cheeks were from the cold or embarrassment. "If you want to get serious with Clarke, that's fine, nobody's going to judge you. I'd be happy for you. But maybe you should talk to him instead of yelling at Jones?" He held up his hands, "food for thought. I almost missed my chance with Gabby because of my stubbornness, don't get in your own way, Cal."

"I know," she mumbled.

"Good, now stop picking fights with my people, they do well enough on their own," he gave her a smile and a quick hug. "Take care of yourself, Cal, get home safe."

"I will, Matty," she replied, giving him a hug before walking home

* * *

She kept busy at work the next few days; not hearing from Clarke, but not expecting to. Back to back 24s at two different houses meant he probably crashed out on the first chance he got. But late one night, she received a simple text from him: _Up for a jog in the morning? -C_

She briefly wondered if he had heard about her altercation with Jones and debated pretending she didn't get it; except she also had the day off as well and figured that was a miracle. Her heart took over her fingers as she typed back: _Sure, Humboldt Park, sunrise. -C2_ before she could second guess herself.

She met him by the field house, where he was casually leaning against the railing. Wearing only a light training jacket unzipped over his t-shirt, as though it were a warm spring day and they wouldn't be dodging snowdrifts on their jog. She had on every layer she could grab, even though he would probably push them both until she was stripping most of them off, trying to not show how close she was to passing out or vomiting at his feet.

"Nice hat," he remarked as she got within earshot, flicking the pom-pom at the top of her Rangers hat, "but don't expect me to save you when some Blackhawks fan comes after you."

"I can handle my own, Clarke," she said, stretching so she didn't have to look at him.

"I know you can," he said, taking off; having already finished stretching.

She ran to catch up, and he thankfully slowed his pace. His eyes still focused ahead, though she could tell by the way he held his shoulders and was working his jaw that he was thinking. It wasn't until a good bit down the path after Cal was practically panting that he said, "heard you and Jones bonded at Molly's the other night."

Cal stopped short, practically skidding off the path. "Crap, did Matt freaking call you?" she asked, the cold air she was gulping stinging her lungs.

Clarke stopped as well, turning and giving her a small smirk, "Mills, actually."

"Damn puppy dog," she growled, yanking off her hat and unzipping her coat; her embarrassment and anger, compounded by the jog and proximity to him had sent her body temperature up.

"He's just looking out for her, he was a candidate not so long ago himself. Mills is good people, he reached out to me while everyone else at 51 was still wondering if I was a rat. So what exactly did you take Jones to task for?"

She wasn't sure how to answer and couldn't entirely figure out what he was thinking. Except his eyes were a darker shade then they usually were, like when his guard was down. She also thought she could detect the muscles around his mouth twitching like he was trying to not smile. "Is this amusing to you, Clarke? I make an idiot of myself in the middle of Molly's in front of half the PD and FD and you find it funny?"

He twitched his nose, forcing his face into one of seriousness, clearing his throat, "well, maybe not funny, exactly, slightly amusing. What I don't find amusing is that you have no problem telling Jones how you feel but can't seem to open up to me all of a sudden." He swallowed again, his eyes turning icy and slightly hurt.

Cailin felt like she had gotten the wind knocked out of her; seeing the look in his eyes wounded her more than if he had hit her. "Jeff, I, just…there's been something about you since I first laid eyes on you at 51. I wasn't sure if I could or should allow myself to feel that way about you, especially with everything with Lisa. But after the blackout, I knew I couldn't stop my feelings for you." She paused, "we've had this connection since that first day, I just couldn't quite figure out what this," she gestured between the two of them, "was going to turn into. Plus then I back slid and I am never entirely sure what you are thinking or feeling. Now Jones shows up all young and perky with her perfect hair and fourteen-foot legs and no dead husband-partners or panic attacks in social situations or PTSD related nightmares and how could you ever pick this mess over the pretty young thing?"

She took a breath about to say more but Clarke's mouth moved into a half-smile once again, his eyes darkening as well. In an instant he was in front of her, leaning down and kissing her, his mouth hot and open on hers as he moved them backwards off the path, through the snow, pressing her up against a tree. It was like that night at Molly's. But there was also something inherently different about it; as though they both were stepping off the ledge together. He broke off the kiss, leaving her breathless and blinking up at him, stunned.

"That answer your question?" he asked hoarsely. Cal nodded, unable to speak or formulate coherent words. "Good, then how do you feel about coming back to my place for breakfast, I make a mean omelet." Cal nodded again, dazedly following after him.


	26. Like a Burning Flame

**Chapter 26: Like a Burning Flame**

_I lied, didn't think there was Internet here, but there is! This chapter gets a T++ warning for any of you youngin's out there ;-). I know, took them long enough, thanks for your patience! _

* * *

They made their way quickly to Clarke's car, where he wordlessly opened the passenger door, grabbing her arm to stop her before she slid in. He looked at her, searching her face, an entire conversation happening without either of them saying a word. Clarke pulled her to him for another heated kiss; coming up for air with a smile spreading across his face, tugging on her ponytail and giving her a wink as she slid in, shutting the door behind her and jogging around to his side.

Both were silent on the drive to his place, each lost in their own thoughts and internal debates; knowing that they were about to cross a line, that it would be a point of no return. Cailin was trying to ignore the fact she was clad in ratty fleece-line yoga pants and couldn't remember the last time she had shaved her legs. Clarke was trying to ignore the fact that he was bringing Cailin back to the place he had bought with his ex-wife but glad he had taken Shay's advice on just putting things out there.

The traffic was light and the drive took less than ten minutes. Cailin looked at him in surprise when he parked in front of his building, realizing it was less than three miles from Gabby's. He shrugged and gave her a sheepish look, he hadn't revealed the location of the condo; she only had known about his bachelor apartment in Near South Side. Before Cailin could even get off her seatbelt and put her hand on the door handle, Clarke appeared to open her door for her. He put out his hand to help her up, pulling her close to him, heat radiating off of them both as he did so. He let go of her waist to reach for her hand, leading her up the steps of the building; trying to not fumble for the right key.

She followed him up the stairs, both still remaining mute, to the third floor landing where Cailin briefly paused; her hand clutching the newel post. Clarke stopped and turned. "Cally," he near whispered, his eyes filled with desire and questioning. She looked up at him, wide-eyed and gave him a single, but firm, nod. He nodded back, putting the key in the lock of his front door; the click of the tumblers opening seeming to echo in the landing, speeding up both of their already racing heartbeats. He swung the door open, gesturing for her to enter. Cailin complied but stopped as soon as she cleared the threshold, toying with the strings of her coat hood. Clarke closed the door, locking it behind them and hung his keys on the hook next to the door, looking at Cailin who was still hovering there. He looked at her with concern, starting to say, "we don't-" when Cailin stepped towards him, reaching out to grab at his jacket and firmly tugged him down towards her saying, "the tortoise wins every time, Jeff," before her mouth hungrily sought his. He smiled against her kiss, before willingly giving in; tugging her hair so it came loose with one hand, while trying to shed his jacket with the other. It was her turn to smile against his mouth; freeing him from his jacket, before throwing off her own coat as they both kicked off their gym shoes.

Freed from their outer layers, Jeff tangled his hands in her hair like he had wanted to do some many times. He moved them back, his lips once again seeking hers, pressing her body against the front door he had just locked. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him even closer as their tongues danced with each other, almost battling. He let out a groan of both lust and frustration as his hands roved over her torso, trying to figure out just how many layers she had on.

Cailin let out the smallest of laughs, wiggling out from underneath his arms so she had enough room to strip off the sweater and long sleeved t-shirt he had been fighting with. Down to her yoga pants with a tank top and sports bra, Cailin gestured and smirked at him, asking, "better?"

Jeff returned her smirk. It grew to a smile as he gave her a heated look and replied, "getting there," before encircling her waist and pulling her to him once again. It was Cailin who walked them backwards this time, toward the hallway she hoped led to a bedroom. She slipped her hands up under the edge of his t-shirt; marveling as her hands ran over his abs and then up his muscular back as she worked the shirt over his head and flung it back over her shoulder. "Better?" he teased, cutting off her eye-roll in response as he deftly removed her tank top and threw it in the direction of his shirt as he backed her against the hallway wall.

With a lot more flesh meeting flesh, Cailin felt the last of her inhibitions melting away under the heat of Jeff's gaze, mouth and hands. Like that night by Molly's, her legs wrapped around him of their own accord; though now he moved his hands to support her, walking them to the bedroom. He tried to lay Cailin down gently on the bed, but with her strong thighs wrapped around his waist and her fingernails lightly digging into his back, Jeff was at the mercy of much more base impulses. He tumbled back on the bed with her, their bodies wrinkling the previously military neat covers; bracing himself on his arms, not want to crush her.

He looked down at her; blonde hair fanned over the dark green blanket, lips bruised almost purple, her skin slightly whisker-burned from his two day stubble. He traced where he had marred her delicate flesh, looking into her eyes for any sign of doubt; where he saw none. They were instead darkened with desire to the color of sapphires, a flush rising on her skin like a contrail behind the path of his hand.

"You just plan on staring at me, Clarke?" she teased with a smirk, propping herself on her elbows.

"What can I say, it's a nice view," he shot back, sliding his hand up her side; his fingers brushing under the band of her sports bra, goose bumps rising on her flesh.

She responded by reaching between them for the knot on his CFD sweatpants, raising her eyebrows with a feigned look of innocence as she pulled it loose. "Oops," she grinned, before leveraging her legs and police training to flip them so Jeff was beneath her.

"Nice moves, Callahan," he said before quickly losing the ability to speak as she divested herself of her remaining clothing, his own following quickly behind.

* * *

Afterward, both of them were spent and breathless, splayed on his bed; the sunlight and radiator mingling with their body heat and making the room steamy. They turned their heads to look at each other and said simultaneously, "well, that was-" they both laughed.

Cailin felt acutely aware of her current lack of clothing, she tried to covertly reach for the sheet to pull it up over her, but it had tangled in the rest of the covers.

Jeff saw her movement, but didn't say anything, his eyes taking in her form, causing her current state of undress to seem all the more naked. He turned on his side toward her, freeing the sheet before looking down at her.

She took the corner of the sheet offered to her from him and pulled it over her, grateful. Not wanting to be embarrassed, yet struck with the realization of how long it had been since she had been naked with someone else. His eyes settled on her; once again seeming to settle in on her soul, as he if he could hear every thought in her head.

"You don't have to hide, Cal," he said, tipping forward to press his lips to her forehead. "How about I give you a minute and go make us that omelette I promised?" She nodded, feeling both relieved and a tiny bit of self-hatred for feeling overwhelmed; the rest of her admiring his body as he slipped back into his sweatpants. He paused on his way out, sliding open a dresser drawer and throwing a clean t-shirt at her. "If you want it," he said, before padding off to the kitchen. She caught it, transfixed with his form as he walked out, before curling up in his bed; forcing herself to keep her girlish squeal completely internal.

Cailin ducked into the restroom trying to freshen up and collect her swirling thoughts before padding out to the kitchen where Jeff was skillfully chopping vegetables for the promised omelet. Jeff refused her offer of assistance, pointing to a stool at the breakfast bar in front of him and telling her to sit as he set a mug of coffee in front of her. "Watch it, a girl could get used to this," she said smiling over her mug, still glowing. Jeff gave her an impish grin before returning to the task at hand.

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes, though they both kept giving each other sly looks and shy smiles. Finally Jeff cleared his throat and set down his fork, "you know that wasn't exactly how I had planned this."

Cailin couldn't stop her smirk, "really, there was a plan?"

"Cal!" he admonished. "Why do you think I've been trying to get our schedules coordinated and to get you away from Molly's? There was supposed to be a date. At an actual restaurant, the kind with tablecloths, a bottle of wine, flowers, the whole deal."

She stuck her hand out, waiting until he shook it looking at her curiously. "Cailin Callahan, nice to meet you," she replied sarcastically. He looked slightly wounded. She let out a sigh, "when have I ever appeared to have been the kind of girl that needs any of that?

Jeff shook his head, clearing their now empty plates. "It's not about needing, Cally, it's about deserving." He looked at her for a long beat, not wanting to keep anything unsaid between them, that had already almost cost them. "I know you haven't gotten much of that; I just don't think it's right."

"Right or not, you've already discovered I put out without you buying me dinner first. Or breakfast," she added with raised eyebrows.

"Callahan," he growled low in his chest.

Even though she knew the sound was just one of frustration, she felt her body immediately respond, flushing with desire again. "Clarke," she forced herself to cover, acutely away that she was only wearing on of his t-shirts; their clothing still strewn between the front door and the bed.

"My point is there was supposed to be a date, some romance, something about us taking it slow…" he trailed off. "Not that," he remarked, pointing at the trail of jogging gear between the front door and the bedroom.

She slid off the stool, unable to take the counter between them any longer. "You saying you have a problem with that? she challenged, closing the distance between them, pulling him down to her by his t-shirt.

"No problem at all, ma'am," he said, scooping her up and showing her just how not a problem he had.

* * *

They laid in bed again, this time Cailin not reaching for the sheet, instead resting her head on his chest. She listened to his heart as it eventually slowed until he turned, propping his elbow up and resting his head on his fist. He looked down at her appraisingly before clearing his throat. "So I've got this friend's wedding coming up. Buddy of mine from USMC, it's in San Diego, so I'm taking a week. It's why I've switched shifts and worked extra."

"Oh good to know you weren't avoiding me," she said, mirroring his propping, knowing full-well she had been the one doing the avoiding.

He gave her a look before continuing, "come with me."

"Come with you, to the wedding? In San Diego?" she asked, clearly shocked.

"Why not?" he inquired, hoping she wasn't regretting their morning's pursuits.

Cailin pulled herself to sitting, finally reaching for the sheet. "Because I can't just switch a couple of shifts around and go traipsing off to California. Not to mention I am still on Belden's fertilizer schedule." She saw the disappointment in his eyes, warmed by it as much as it broke her heart a little. "I would love to go with you if I could, Jeff. Know that, sincerely, but I still have to make up for my adventures with IU or get a new boss." Something flickered behind his eyes. "What?" she pressed, catching it, studying him.

Jeff also sat, waving her off, "no, I've got it, you can't just take off. I just didn't want you to think I didn't want you to come with me."

"Uh-huh," she said still staring at him, waiting. She could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out how to say something.

"Speaking of new bosses…" he started.

She smiled, "ah, there it is. Is Boden talking about retiring again?"

Jeff shook his head, "not that I know of...you know how I passed the Lieutenant's exam?"

Cailin let out a small snort. "Yes, despite you not actually telling me or anyone."

He shrugged, "I wanted to give Hermann a win. The thing is, well, now there too many Lieutenants and not enough Squad."

"Meaning?" Cailin asked, her brow creasing as she tried to figure out what he was saying.

"I have a chance to head up Truck 25," he replied, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"You got a promotion, you're going to run your own truck? That's amazing, you're going to be amazing!" she said, excitedly, wondering why he looked so nonchalant or, was that wistful? "You have to leave 51," she realized, putting it together. He nodded, slightly melancholy, still sheepish. She realized what was weighing on him. "You haven't told them yet."

"Nope."

His one word answer made her look at him carefully. "When does the promotion go through?"

He pursed his lips before answering, "I'm going to sub over at 102 for a couple shifts next week to make sure it is a good fit; but it is a pretty much a done deal after I get back from the wedding."

Cailin sighed, exasperated. "And when exactly is this wedding, Jeff?"

"I'm gone the week after next," he replied sheepishly.

"How can you not have told them? They're like family!" she admonished.

"Which is exactly why I haven't told them," Jeff explained, reaching out stroking her cheek. "51 saved my life, 51 brought you to me! I feel like I'm abandoning them."

She captured his palm, kissing it. "It's a promotion, Jeff, they'll be happy for you, that's what family does…most of the time," she said with a grimace. "You need to at least tell Kelly, after everything he's been dealing with, he should have a head's up before he gets a new person on Squad," she continued, dropping his hand and giving him a look that was not to be argued with.

"Right this second?" he protested, moving his hand up her thigh, giving her a smoldering look.

She reached across him, pressing her soft flesh against his muscular chest, throwing a leg over him with a wicked grin before snaking an arm out to grab his phone from the nightstand. "Yes, right this second, Clarke," she said, handing him the phone.

"It's a good thing I'm a goner for you, Callahan," he growled, punching in Severide's number.


	27. Catch Fire

**Chapter 27: Catch Fire**

_A/N: Another little cross w/ CPD where I take my own liberties to fit my story; and some more happy C/C moments that I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Gabby's place seemed bigger, emptier and even less like hers when Cailin let herself in before shift the next morning. She really hadn't planned on spending the rest of the day and night at Jeff's, not wanting to be 'that girl'. However, Jeff had made it very clear he didn't really want her to leave. They didn't leave the condo, in fact they barely left the bedroom. Though they spent as much time talking as they did on extracurriculars; talking like they had back when they were jogging together everyday.

While they had maintained the connection that had instantly formed between them, everything that had happened with Lisa, Jules' death, the Keeler case and Jones had distanced them more than either realized. Over the course of even just that one day, the bond between them re-strengthened; and not just because of their now physical connection.

They both had realized and admitted, at least to themselves, that the world was a far easier place to face with the other in their life; each truly knowing the value of having someone understand them at their core. Which is why it was difficult for Cailin to leave; she had truly believed she would never find that again, perhaps even stronger than she had with Jimmy. Jeff had met her bent and burned; yet he still wanted her and it felt more like because of, instead of in spite of.

* * *

Cailin barely had time to make it to her desk before she got called out to the scene park, a young man lying by the jogging path, strangled to death with a cord still around his neck. She was getting information from the uniforms first on scene, trying to figure out why the victim's name sounded familiar when IAD rolled up. That couldn't be good. Her afterglow quickly faded as Stillwell informed her why he was there. "Seriously? Jay Halstead?" she muttered, as Stillwell all but shoved her back towards the yellow tape. Cailin glared at the man behind his back, pulling out her phone and making a call. She tried to hide her shock when Voight pulled up, carefully studying the interaction between Voight and Stillwell.

Voight caught her looking at them, giving her a look. "Can I help you, Callahan?" he asked.

"Just wondering who was taking the case, as much as I am enjoying freezing my ass off out here," she replied, with raised eyebrows. Something as close as she had ever seen to a smile flitted across Voight's face.

"You can assist, but IAD is on-point," Stillwell said, practically shooing her away.

Cailin rolled her eyes, "glad I can help," she grumbled, giving him a mock salute as soon as he turned his back.

* * *

Cailin met Antonio Dawson in the parking lot of the precinct. "Thanks for the head's up," he said, giving her a grateful look.

"Figured I owed you a solid. I am not going to point out the irony," she replied with a shrug before lifting her palms, "look, 'Tonio, I am not about to judge, but do you think he did it?"

Antonio set his jaw, hunching his shoulders. "I don't know, yet. Though I plan on finding out." "I hope not," he tacked on.

Cailin nodded, "me too." She looked around before pulling the folded newspaper from her tote, something hidden within its folds. "Thought you might want to check up on some world events in your downtime." He took it, not saying anything, looking at her curiously before realizing there was a file inside. His eyes widened slightly. "You didn't get it from me. Just make sure if Jay is clean, Stillwell doesn't railroad him."

Between working new cases that came in and practically being Stillwell's secretary combined with Jeff picking up extra shifts in Roger's Park, the pair didn't get much of a chance to see each other. phone calls and texts having to suffice until the night before Jeff was heading to San Diego. Emboldened by taking their relationship to the next level along with knowing he wasn't around the next week, Cailin invited Jeff over to Gabby's for dinner.

* * *

Her heart sped up as his knock sounded on the front door, trying to not practically skip through the apartment to open it. Her eyes flicked admiringly over his form. Stopping but not commenting on the duffel bag clutched in his hand. Their eyes met, and she knew he could tell she was trying to not smirk by the sheepish grin he gave, mumbling something about an early flight. She pretended to not hear; inviting him to come in and excusing herself to the kitchen to check dinner. "My culinary skills are more utilitarian than master chef, I have to admit," she called from the kitchen, letting out a gasp of surprise and pleasure as she felt Jeff's breath, lips, and, finally, teeth graze her neck; realizing only after he had spun her to face him that it had been on the same side as her scar. It was the first time she hadn't been at least subconsciously aware of it.

"I'm sure it will be great, and if not, we can always order pizza," he said, before putting his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her up to him, kissing her almost greedily.

She reached behind her to turn the stove off, thinking despite having a fireman in the kitchen, it probably wasn't a good idea to burn down her friend's apartment. He grinned into the kiss at her action, before sliding his hands around her waist, lightly brushing his fingers up under her sweater, causing her toes to curl. "It'll keep," she murmured, practically dragging him to the bedroom.

* * *

Jeff Clarke stood in front of the door; duffel bag in one hand, the other poised to knock. He hesitated, he didn't want to seem presumptuous; which is something he hadn't considered when he grabbed it after packing for his trip. All he had thought about was how long this week had seemed, not being able to do more than try to catch an actual phone call with Cailin here and there. The thought of spending the next week halfway across the country without spending every possible second with her beforehand completely clouded his judgement. His heart lit up when she swung open the door; an easy smile on her face, clad in well-worn jeans and a comfortable sweater, her hair escaping from its messy bun. He would have dropped the duffel in the hall and consumed her in the doorway if he hadn't caught her smirking at his bag. Busted. The fact that she didn't say anything endeared her to him even more; though he still gave a feeble excuse over an early morning flight. He watched her pad off to the kitchen, dropping his bag next to the couch, throwing his coat over it before quickly following after her; unable to keep his distance a second longer.

Dinner delayed, but still far more enjoyable than Cailin seemed to give herself credit for; he easily cleared his bowl of stew, particularly pleased when she did the same. They sat at the table, drinking wine, catching each other up on the past week; the scene comfortably domestic enough to give him pause. Not for its domesticity, but for how genuine and comfortable it felt. He was slightly forlorn that it had taken this long, couldn't help blame himself for that. Even if they had decided, tangled together in his bed, that they needed shove his ill-fated decisions in a box on a high shelf. Clarke found himself yearning to sit down with Cailin every night they weren't working to catch up with each other, wrapped around each other like a security blanket. The intensity in which he craved that frightened him slightly.

"Uh-oh, the wheels are turning," Cailin mused, causing Jeff's head to snap up, looking at her slightly bashful.

"It's nothing," he said, the a shrug, "just thinking that this was great; dinner, sitting here, seeing you, all of it," he replied, stopping himself from saying all of what he was thinking. He didn't want to scare her off, despite recently charging forward.

Cailin stood, clearing their bowls before returning to the table; sliding on his lap instead oh her own chair. "Yeah, it is pretty nice, isn't it? Comfortable," she said, her eyes searching his, trying to convey that it was far beyond just comfortable, struggling with the words. "Like it's just...right?" she finished, not meaning for it to come out as much of a question as it did. She truly meant it; she could easily picture herself sitting on a couch with him every night they weren't on shift, sipping wine or beer, just being. Hell, if she had that opportunity, HR might be on her ass less about taking furlough.

Clarke stared into her eyes, losing a little more of himself in them; understanding what she meant, what she was trying to say, though he disliked her doubtful tone. He moved his hands up, placing one on the back of her neck, using the thumb of the other to brush her cheek. "Cally, do you know how much..." he trailed off, apprehensive about frightening her off if he admitted the true depth of his feelings for her. "Remember when you said you needed me, 'out there'? I hope you know how much I need you, too." He kicked himself for his cowardice; he loved her, why couldn't he just say it?

Cailin watched his eyes cloud slightly, sensing his internal battle. She moved her own hands up to cradle his face, the corners of her mouth turning up into a sweet smile as she softly replied, "Good to know, Jeff, because I still need you; maybe even more now and," her smile grew, turning impish, "pretty sure you're stuck with me." The clouds retreated, his expression clearing to something closer to her sunny grin as he raised his eyebrows before kissing her wantonly, tipping her back on the table.

She laughed slightly as she attempted to come up for air. "While I hate to dissuade you, I really don't want to destroy any of Gabby's family heirlooms," she remarked, biting her lip in a way that made Clarke willing to write a check for every piece of furniture in the place. "In that case," he replied with a cocked eyebrow, effortlessly throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to the bedroom.

"Why are all you hose-draggers such show-offs?" she whelped as he tossed her on the bed.

"Because we can't shoot people," he retorted, pulling off his shirt.

* * *

Neither of them had gotten enough sleep when Clarke's alarm went off early the next morning. Cailin let out a groan that was very much the opposite of those he had elicited the night before, pulling the covers over her head. "Sorry, Cal," he laughed, drawing the covers back down so he could land a kiss on her forehead.

"If I didn't love you, I would hate you," she growled, before realizing what she had said and turning nearly as purple as the quilt. Her heart stopped as the panic set in. Damn it, she was going to scare him off; he probably thought she was one of those annoying, clinging girlfriends. Assuming she was his girlfriend. Wait, what if this was just- Her thoughts cut-off by his kissing her intensely, before giving her a wink and saying, "I'll go make us coffee."

Cailin remained practically mute when she emerged from the bedroom for coffee, her cheeks still tinged with pink.

Clarke found her fluster utterly charming; yet he held back from saying anything, knowing she had to wade through this on her own. He didn't say much either, flipping through the paper over coffee; one eye on the clock as it ticked closer to their slight separation. It was only a week. How many tours had he done in Iraq and Afghanistan without feeling this pang in his chest? Of course, he hadn't been leaving Cally any of those times. He cleared his throat, "cab will be here soon," he said, looking at her over the top of the paper before folding it neatly. "I should wait out front," he said, trying to convince himself to leave.

"I'll walk you out, wait with you," Cailin replied, looking at him longingly.

"You sure you don't want to come?" he asked, smiling down at her as they stood out front.

"A week in sunny San Diego with you, why would I want that?" she said, with a smirk, gesturing at the grey skies and brushing the falling snow off his shoulders; trying to ignore her earlier use of the L-word. He looked dejected enough for her to add, "of course I want to go, Jeff, I just can't, There's no such thing as a sub-out detective."

"Had to try," he said as he gave her another sly grin, " and it would be a lot nicer with you there," he added, his hands going to her hips, pulling her closer as his lips met hers in a heated kiss that only ended when the cab driver pulled up and honked.

Cailin looked up at him, slightly dazed and wistful. She didn't have to say anything, knowing he could read her thoughts, was thinking similar ones given his expression. She walked down the front path with him, giving him another kiss as he opened the door to the cab. "See you around, Clarke," she said, forcing a broad smile.

"In a week," he replied, his smile much less forced as he gave her one more kiss; saying, "I love you too, Callahan," before sliding into the backseat.

* * *

Cailin practically floated into the precinct, though both Belden and Helling tried to drag her down.

"Jesus, Callahan, is that an actual smile without inflicting physical harm on a perp? Never though I would see the day," Helling snipped.

"Please tell me you a grinning because you aren't my problem any more," Belden said making a sucking sound of his tongue against his teeth.

Cailin cocked a hand on her hip, saying, "you wouldn't like your COMSTAT numbers very much if that was the case, Loo."

"You finally getting laid, aren't you?" Helling pushed, waggling his eyebrows. "See, I told you she seemed less pent-up. She's hasn't tripped a single person on the way to booking in, like a week."

Cailin narrowed her eyes, "I am so very happy that you two ladies like to have coffee talk about my sex life, but you both have made it clear I will never be a member of your little club; so I highly suggest you quit talking about what I'm doing in my off time."

Helling opened his mouth to make another sarcastic comment, but even Belden could tell the younger detective's fuse was at its end, so he cleared his throat and said, "sure there are cases needing solved."


	28. Friendly Fire

**Chapter 28: Friendly Fire**

_A/N: Clarke isn't technically "in" this chapter, sorry to disappoint; though there is still some great family/friend bonding that happens._

* * *

There were plenty of open cases, enough to keep Cailin busy enough she didn't get the chance to miss Clarke until the long train ride down to her parents' for a joint birthday party for Cam, Cole, Cullen and 4 of her nephews and nieces. Her family was always celebrating something it seemed, with as many of them as there were; at least they did the joint birthday thing. Cailin had missed the lion's share of family get togethers. Being gone for thirteen years, her absence was rarely noted by anyone other than her mother. It was easier for all of them anyway, living either in Mt. Greenwood, Oaklawn or Tinley Park and having the benefit of a much more regular schedule. She normally didn't sweat it; but something about advancing her relationship with Jeff combined with Cullen's actual presence made her leave the precinct at a decent hour and board the commuter train at Union Station.

The ride afforded her the chance to catch up with Gabby, who was dealing with the most creepy near-stalker, Victor Ramsey. "There's nothing on him, Gabs, not even a sealed juvy file, I've checked every database I have access to. Guy doesn't even have outstanding parking tickets. I wish I could help, I really do," she said, filling her friend in.

Gabby let out a sigh, "thanks for trying."

"There a reason you didn't call Antonio with this?" Cailin pressed.

"Cally, you have brothers; would you call them?"

Cailin laughed, "I suppose you have a point. I'm headed down to see them all now. Can't wait for the interrogation, whoops, I mean family togetherness."

Gabby returned her laugh, "yeah, well none of them are actual cops, so you can guess how 'Tonio is at family dinners."

"Matty better thank his lucky stars he knew your brother well before you two hooked up," Cailin replied wryly. Her friend might be a brave firefighter who had dealt with more than his share of challenges throughout the years, but he wasn't exactly the toughest guy. She could only guess what Antonio Dawson would have put him through had they not already had a friendship.

"Speaking of which, convenient timing on going to family dinner when Clarke is out-of-town," Gabby teased. "Though if anyone can hold his own against your clan, a former Marine is probably a safe bet." Shay let out a snort from the bunk next to Gabby's. The guys all zoned out in front of hockey; the sleeping quarters were the closest thing to privacy around.

Cailin let out a groan, "oh crap," she muttered.

"What, what did I say?" Gabby asked, her eyes growing wide, wondering why her friend suddenly sounded so anguished.

"So you know how I said we were taking things slow?" Cailin said, her realization making her pale.

"Uh-huh," Gabby said, trying to not sound excited, gesturing for Shay to come closer to listen in.

Cailin drew in a breath, "well, um, that kind of went out the window after the whole Jones thing."

"It's about damn time," Shay announced loudly enough for Cailin to hear.

"Hello, Leslie," Cailin snickered, thinking this was actually easier than having to catch both friends up separately. "Anyway, I just realized that given this turn of events…at some point, he will actually have to meet my family."

"Clarke's a big boy, he can handle his own," Shay said, stealing the phone away from Gabby, ignoring her friend's glare. "It'll be fine. But let's chat about you finally stepping up, girlfriend. Really wish I didn't have to break up that near cat fight between you and Jonsey, would have been nice to see her taken down a notch."

"It wasn't like that," Cailin started, hearing Shay cluck in protest. "Fine, so it was a little like that. I just am not the marking territory kind. She really didn't leave me much of a choice."

"You handled it better than I would have. She got off easy with that slap," Shay said. "So did you step up or did he take my advice? Wait, never mind, that might get into details that I don't want to know. I don't want to have to brain bleach, save it for Gabs. I am happy for you both, though, truly. Speaking of hook-ups, I am pretty sure Kelly and Detective Hairporn are about to happen."

"You do mean Erin, right? Because I was getting that vibe, but you never know with Kelly," Cailin remarked, thinking she really needed to try to get together more with these two.

"Yes, Erin," Shay said, letting out a groan as the intercom sounded in the background calling for everyone for an apartment fire, "well, catch up later; see if you can get her take, would you?"

"Will do. Stay safe, all of you," Cailin requested before hanging up.

* * *

The Callahan house was its usual crush of people and noise, though all warm and loving. It took Cailin less time to adjust to the noise and she didn't immediately shy away from being used as a jungle gym by an assortment of children.

It was Coleman who noticed this first, probably because of their car ride back to the city together. He knew his teasing had unearthed a bit of truth. He brought her a beer and pulled two kids off of her; giving her a knowing smile as he studied her carefully.

"Something tells me you've had an interesting past few weeks," he said, smirking at her, his eyes sparkling with the laughter he was holding back.

"Something or someone?" she shot back. "Thanks for helping with the school library by the way; Matt told me you got a bunch of contractors to donate supplies."

Cole shrugged, "it's a good cause. I can't believe a school lost its library. What kind of world are we living in? Glad mine go to Catholic school, I'll tell you what. And nice try, Matt hasn't actually told me anything about you lately. Mind you, his keeping quiet tells me plenty, but I'm patient."

Cailin let out a snort, "really? Wait right here why I got tell Ma and Catherine that," she teased, pointing to where their mother and his wife were fussing with setting the table.

"A Squad guy, really, Cally?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "I don't have a clue what you are talking about," she said, sipping on her beer. He just looked at her, waiting, taking a swig from his own bottle. "Probably shouldn't mention he's also USMC?"

Coleman smirked again, "at least he isn't Navy. I guess it is true what they say about women mar-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence Coleman Robert Callahan. I am seeing someone, that is all. Jesus, you are as bad as Ma," Cailin admonished.

Coleman looked at her, his expression turning serious. "You're still young, sis, you're allowed to be happy again. You're life doesn't have to end just because…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish his statement.

"I got my first husband killed?" Cailin said, wincing at the harshness of her tone. So apparently being with Jeff wasn't complete magic. "I'm sorry, Cole. I know you mean well, I know Ma does too. I know I am still young, unlike the rest of you lot," she teased, giving him a quick peck on the cheek, "happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks. I think. Oh, hey, you see Cullen yet? He brought his, uh, friend from the seminary," Coleman said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Cailin couldn't help but give a small snort. "Do you mean his partner of however many years that he might actually leave the priesthood for? Good for him. Has Ma put two and two together yet?"

"And admit she might not have a son who is a priest anymore? Not a snowball's chance in hell," Coleman said before going to check on a wailing child.

Cailin stood, surveying the scene for a moment; imagining how Clarke would fare and wishing he was there as a life-preserver now. She loved her family, with all her heart; but there was a reason she had went away to school and had stayed in New York. There would always be a part of her that felt like an afterthought, an accident, a burden. Not to mention she didn't always feel like she fit in with them. Though she knew, deep down, they would alway be there for her. She jumped slightly as a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"Sorry, sis," came her brother's soothing voice. Cullen always had sounded so comforting in the pulpit, a shepherd leading his flock.

"No, I'm sorry. How are you, Cullen? Trying to make me look bad by showing your face more?" she said, with a smile, turning to accept his welcoming hug.

He smiled at her, a glimmer in his eye she hadn't seen in some time; not that he had seen her in person in some time. "I'm doing surprisingly well. Something about coming to terms with who you are and what you want out of life. And you, you look great, Cally." He meant it.

The last time he had seen his sister in person had been in New York, after she was released from the third hospital but before she had returned to work. It was an understatement to say she was a shell. He worried then that her very soul had shattered. He recalled accompanying her, letting her squeeze hand, as she permanently inked her body with those letters along her spine. Everyone had their cross to bear, he supposed.

She seemed lighter now, and not in the flesh; in that department she had added desperately needed weight. But she had an aura about her. Cullen felt like he could practically she her very essence stitching itself back together. He turned to the bear of a man behind him, "I don't know if you remember, Bruce. Bruce, this is my favorite sister, Cailin," he said, introducing them.

"Good to know I am still your favorite only sister, Cully," she said, bypassing Bruce's handshake and surprising herself by pulling him in for a hug. "Treat him well, Bruce, because I won't just have you arrested, I will put you underground," she warned, though her sunny smile diminished her threat.

* * *

Cailin was grateful for Colin's offer of a ride back to the city, even if she worried he was slipping, going to visit one of his things on the side. She supposed as long as he was providing for his children and not irreparably harming Anna, it wasn't her place to judge.

Colin waited until a commercial break came on the radio before speaking. "So Cole said I'm supposed to pump you for information on some guy. Please tell me he isn't another copper."

"You say that like I have such a rich dating history, Colin. I didn't really have time for a lot of romantic entanglements while working undercover for the NYPD. I was married to the only real one I had!" she protested.

"I'm just saying, sis, hard enough being married to someone who only works nine months out the year. Just don't know how you could make it work with someone who works as much as you do."

Cailin wrinkled her nose, "Jimmy being my partner did help with that. Made HR and brass have kittens, mind you. Don't worry your pretty little head, Colin, he isn't a cop." She let the silence lay heavy between them, knowing he wanted more information. "So what can you tell me about House 102?" she said after a long stretch of silence.

Colin gave a half-shrug, "it's up in Rogers Park? Not too busy, not too slow. Covers a lot of ground and is a new facility, so not likely to get put on the chopping block anytime soon. Please tell me you aren't considering joining the academy. Isn't getting shot at enough, Cally, you want to run into burning buildings too? Are you trying to put Ma in her grave?"

"Slow your roll, big bro. I am happy being a cop and I don't get shot at, much," she said giving him a look. "Just wondering since Clarke passed his Lieutenant's exam and is probably transferring up there."

Colin turned to look at her, giving her a knowing grin. "Clarke's the guy, huh? Passed his Lieutenant's exam, of course you find an egg-head firefighter."

Cailin crossed her arms across her chest, "he isn't an egg-head, Colin. He's smart, yes, he's also USMC, so he could kick your bilge rat ass from here to Timbuktu."

"Maybe so, unless he doesn't treat you right and then…" Colin trailed off, echoing Cailin's earlier warning to Bruce as they pulled up in front of Gabby's.

Cailin gave him a quick squeeze and a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the ride, bro."

* * *

Cailin was sitting at the bar at Molly's, not quiet able to put her finger on the mood. She had chatted more with Gabby, as well as catching up with Matt; so she knew about the horrible apartment fire and the father who had sacrificed himself to save his family. Having spent plenty of time being deposed or in a courtroom, such was the life of a detective, she had given Matt plenty of pointers on how he and his crew should deal. She knew that Mrs. Brooker had dropped the lawsuit, so she was expecting more of a celebratory atmosphere than what greeted her.

She finally pieced together that Mouch was pining for his Japenese lady-love and hadn't enjoyed Shay's guidance and Kelly was trying to help some pill popping retired Denver FD guy that wasn't enjoying his good Samaritan act. She also discerned Gabby had gotten her stalker fired with the help of Jones; Cailin retched at this fact, and Otis and Cruz had swooped in on an apartment Matt wanted for him and Gabby. All in all, the vibe was weird.

She sat there, waiting on Clarke's delayed flight to come in, trying to not feel increasingly awkward about her knowledge of his impending transfer. Kelly had cornered her on his way out, stumbling over what she thought was gratitude for getting Clarke to tell him; though she quickly sidetracked him by bringing up Erin Lindsay. She could barely look at Matt, even if he wasn't Clarke's ranking officer, he was still a Lieutenant and changes at 51 would affect him even more than others.

The scene got even weirder when Boden showed up for a drink. Cailin wasn't sure she had even seen him cross the threshold of Molly's before, and she really had no clue if he knew about the transfer either. She knew from growing up that the moving parts of the CFD are intricate and complex and even a Station Chief didn't always know what was happening behind the scenes.

When her phone buzzed with another flight delay notification, she moved over next to Shay, even though it put her only one stool down from Jones in her haute couture suit. Cailin briefly felt dowdy in her staid black pants and button-down, but then she remembered Jeff's parting words and the last night they had spent together and felt a grin start to blossom.

"You got some feathers in your teeth, Cally," Shay remarked at Cailin's expression, taking in the look on Jones' face.

Cailin rolled her eyes, dropping her voice, "I don't want to be that girl, Leslie, really.

Shay rolled her own, "whatever, bagged and tagged. Enjoy it. You deserve it, not to mention you two are perfect for each other with all your," she paused, gesturing, "stuff."

Cailin let out a laugh. "Thanks, I think. And thanks for whatever advice you gave, though I am pretty sure I don't want to know what it was." She took a long drink of her whiskey and ginger. "Oh and Detective Lindsay is like totally crushing on Severide. Not that she would admit it, but it takes one to know one. You owe me for the overpriced latte it took to pry info out of her though."

Shay grinned, "I knew it. And your next round is on me."

"In that case, I'm glad Jeff's plane got delayed," Cailin replied, finishing her drink.

She noticed Jones sitting there, still working her jaw. It was then she realized the younger woman wasn't stewing, she was trying to not cry. Deciding she should be an adult, Cailin turned on her stool and said, "look, Rebecca, I owe you an apology. You're still new to 51, so I can't expect you to know everything that has gone on and I could have handled things a lot better a couple of weeks ago and I had no right to-"

Jones drew back, a cobra about to strike, "that's right, I am new at 51, not you. You aren't part of the house, Callahan, so you don't know everything that has gone on either. But yes, you could have handled yourself better, I should have called your boss to let him know what a loose cannon you are; but I didn't-"

Once again Shay was in between the two of them, though this time Cailin wasn't furious, she was actually dumbfounded. "Jones, shut up, now. Cally is one of us, even if her badge is different and you're lucky all she did was slap you. So I highly suggest you keep walking." Shay stood the other women down until Gabby appeared out of nowhere, sunnily thanking Jones for her help with Ramsey.

Cailin suppressed an eye-roll as Jones and Gabby said something about having each other's backs as women; though Shay still caught it, smirking at her. Both women froze as they watched the car crash happening in front of them; Gabby revealing that Jones' dad was trying to her DQ'd and Jones' subsequent meltdown. It seemed the entire bar froze as Jones' flew out the side door, surprisingly fast in her heels. Mills recovered the quickest, racing out after her as everyone else hesitantly returned to normal.

"About that next round?" Cailin quipped to Shay, who was more than happy to comply.


	29. Fire & Ice

**Chapter 29: Fire and Ice**

_A/N: Serious conversation ahead, which then leads into serious Jones' stuff. I couldn't have them be all happy and cute all the time!_

* * *

Most everyone had left Molly's. The trio of women were the only ones left; with Gabby in the middle of the nightly breakdown, Shay and Cailin pitching in with wiping down tables and stacking stools. Cailin noticed the other two women exchange a long look, a silent conversation occurring. She could only assume they were going to question her about Clarke. She could barely hide her shock when Shay cleared her throat and said, "so Gabby and I are planning this girls' weekend, just a cabin in the woods kind of thing; drinking too much wine and bitching about dating, we're going next weekend. You in?"

She blinked a few times, not sure she had heard correctly. Having been firmly entrenched in the boys club for so long, Cal hadn't received such an invite since college. She had an internal debate for a long moment. On one hand, she felt honored at the invite and she did have furlough time she needed to use. But on the other hand, she knew Shawson had been a thing long before she met them and she wasn't up for being a third wheel. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be," Gabby protested, "the more the merrier."

"That mean you're inviting Jones, too?" Cailin asked, before waving herself off for sounding snarky. "No, really, I would probably just have to cancel last-minute anyway. Go, have fun, but margarita night soon?" The women agreed, finishing up shutting down the bar just as Clarke finally showed up.

"Too late, bub, we're closed," Shay teased, giving Clarke a half-hug. "I'd ask how sunny California was, but it would make me just want to smack you, so I won't." Shay shot Cailin an evil little smirk before waggling her eyebrows. "Plus, your girl just turned me down for a weekend in the woods, so I'm already mad at you."

She watched as Shay teased him, suddenly realizing why he hadn't wanted to tell them about his promotion. Despite his inauspicious start, 51 had really become his family. Cal knew from the few times they had briefly touched on the subject that he wasn't close to his brother; hadn't been since before their mother died and his father had cut loose when he was young. She smiled wistfully before seeing Clarke's growing embarrassment. Cailin moved to his side, looping her arm through his. "Goodnight, Leslie," she warned, "'night, Gabs," she called as she led them out into the night.

* * *

"Do I even want to know what that was all about?" he queried as they exited.

"I'm not entirely sure, tonight was weird. I don't think I can go back to Molly's until you tell everyone about your transfer, Jeff," Cailin whimpered.

As soon as they cleared the steps, he drew he in for a long hug and longer kiss. "I missed you, Cal," he admitted, hoarsely.

"Back at you, cowboy," she said, her arms still wrapped around him. "Whose place are we going back to?" she asked, giving him a knowing look.

He hefted his bag, "seeing as I don't have anything with me except shorts or my dress uniform to wear, I'm going to have to head back to mine. You mind the trek?"

Cailin shook her head, "not a bit. I have you to keep me warm," she grinned, happily nestling into his side. "Even though I don't understand why it is still snowing when it is almost April."

"Wimp," Jeff teased.

Cailin huffed, "it's just not right and not all of us got to escape to California for a week."

"Hey, you had an open invitation," Clarke protested. Cailin stopped walking to glare at him. He shrugged, "I know, no substitute detectives; even if there were, there isn't a substitute for you," he paused, "for anything. I wish you would have been there with me, Cally," he finished, hooking a finger under her chin and pulling her up to him for the softest of kisses.

"I mean, I wanted to, I would have loved to, I just-" Cailin blushed; her tongue, heart and stomach all in knots.

Clarke smiled down at her before pulling her back next to him to resume their walk. "You know, you're awfully cute when you can't formulate words."

She scoffed, "glad you feel that way, considering you continue to have that ridiculous effect on me."

She could feel him watching her as she climbed the stairs. She flushed slightly before realizing part of her enjoyed him doing so. Jeff wasn't leering, like so many of the men she came across, he was simply quietly admiring. It reminded Cailin of other men she respected in her life, those who were more gentleman than caveman. Her father, a couple of her brothers, Matt...Jimmy. She paused in front of Jeff's door, feeling him stop right behind her. He pulled keys out of his pocket, his arm reaching around her for the lock. Feeling the heat rising off his body, her own temp rising automatically in response. She tried to shove thoughts of Jimmy Doyle out of her head with Jeff in such close proximity. In a few weeks it would be two years, 24 months; far longer than their marriage, three times longer than they were even a couple. It wasn't fair to lump in their years as partners, cops lost partners all the time. Cailin leaned back slightly into Jeff as he moved forward to open the door, pressing against him as much as she was pushing her past aside.

The moment the door closed behind them, his bag hitting the floor; Cailin was kissing him, almost desperately. Jeff gave into it for a moment, before catching the look in her eyes. "I get it, Callahan, you missed me too," he teased, pulling back, catching her face in his hands, trying to get a read on her. "I miss something while I was gone? You didn't shoot Jones, did you?"

"I played nice, I swear, Jeff, you can even ask Shay. It was pretty much status quo around here, cross my heart," she replied, realizing his ability to know her innermost self did have its downside. She forced out what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. "Seeing as I've got seven hours before work, you wanna keep standing here in your entryway shooting the breeze or what?"

He knew she wasn't giving him anymore, so he winked at her, returning her smile back saying, "no, ma'am, pretty sure we can come up with better ways to spend your time."

* * *

Cailin was lying face down, content, but nowhere near asleep. Jeff was lying on his back contemplating his move to Truck 25 while absently stroking her back as she burrowed contentedly into the pillows. He rolled on his side, catching sight of her tattoo, his heart seizing a bit at knowing why she had gotten it. "How much did it hurt?"he asked, his fingertip tracing each letter of _Sua Sponte_ and the celtic knots along her spine.

Given her earlier attempt to shove thoughts of Jimmy out of her head, this seemed like yet another way Clarke was reading her mind. "Probably a hell of a lot; but between the meds and the PTSD, I don't remember," she admitted, "Cullen said I almost broke his damn hand squeezing it."

"So your family did come up, after?" he asked wishing he could see her face. She had always left him a little in the dark about the months she was recovering.

As if sensing his need, Cally turned on her side to face Jeff. She shrugged, "sort of. After a couple of weeks, they realized they needed to call my _next_ next-of-kin. My parents flew up but it's not like they could DO anything. By that point I had already gotten pneumonia and was on hospital number 2. Everyone else was busy and I wasn't really into letting them know what had gone on. The priesthood did allow for some amount of flexibility, so Cullen came for after my mother became worried for my soul. Apparently I wasn't in a great space when they visited. I know they were just scared…" She trailed off as she pulled herself up, looking at him, deciding to switch the subject, knowing she needed to broach the subject of him meeting the Callahan family soon. "I know you said you weren't close, but do you ever see any of your family, Jeff?

"I usually see a couple of cousins and my brother up at the cabin," he replied, nonchalant.

"The cabin?" she queried, wondering what he was talking about.

"Yeah, up by Fox Lake. I try to get up there a couple of times a year."

"Wait you have a cabin up on a lake? So why did I risk my entire life savings so you could get ELMO'd?"

"Because you love me?" he grinned, rakishly.

She glowered, though it immediately turned into a simpering grin. "Well yes, but you were married at the time!" She paused, "but apparently that's not a deterrent for me."

Jeff knew she was struggling, his own look turning serious; wondering if this had been part of her behavior when they walked in. "How long were you two partners again?" He knew the general answer, was just trying to get her to not look so damn guilty.

"Doyle started as my mentor while I was still a boot. I was the only female that wasn't a CI in OCCB, he took me under his wing. I worked with him for nearly 7 years, we were official partners for just over 4. And since I know what you are really wanting to ask...he was married to Penny for the first 5 of those; but as soon as we got officially partnered, she more or less hightailed it down to her parents' in Connecticut." Her eyes went slightly flat as she asked, "does that bother you?"

Jeff hadn't been fishing for more info on Doyle's ex-wife. Cailin had been extremely honest with him about her past, admitting more than once that he knew more than anyone else about many things in her life; including her relationship with Doyle. Jeff admired the fact that despite being attracted to each other for years, even living under the same roof, that she and Jimmy hadn't acted on anything for so long. He countered this to his own willingness to move on the second Lisa got linked up; before that even. The day he had Capp cut off his ring was the day he emotionally detached from his marriage, he realized that now. He smirked at this realization as well as the absurdity of their situations.

"I'm going to need a decoder ring for the smirk, cowboy, does it bug you or not?" Cailin pressed. A little piece of her always wondered, or maybe even assumed, that Jeff might think she was no better than Lisa. Cailin had contributed something to the demise of Doyle's marriage, even if they hadn't acted on their attraction until well after Penny left the scene.

"Look, Cal, so we've both been married at least your spouse didn't murder their lover." He was trying to lighten the mood, as much as such a serious topic could be. The storm clouds in her eyes clutched at his heart. It didn't work, he saw the guilt flood her, as the blood drained from her face.

"Nope, I was responsible for all the murdering in my marriage," Cailin said, setting her jaw.

Jeff moved so he was sitting higher, able to look directly at her. "Look, I know I'm just a hose-dragger, but you've got to stop blaming yourself, Cailin. Jimmy knew what he was doing when he told SWAT to stand-down and took off his vest in that room. Protecting you or not, he knew the risk."

"But I'm the one that got my cover blown," she protested.

"Because your suspect ran your prints and checked your background better than the one the NYPD had created for you!" Jeff retorted, hating that she was still carrying all this guilt.

"I must have done something to spark that, Clarke!"

"How do you know he didn't run everyone's?" Jeff countered, before waving it off. "You'll never know what happened, and even if you did, what would it help? I can sit around all day and wonder if Lisa killed Hayes because she got fed up with him bugging her or if because she was jealous at him moving on. I can twist myself up wondering if she ever really wanted another chance with me or if it was all just a set up. I'll never know and it doesn't matter. Can you just let go of that blame and guilt and just be happy, Cally?"

He looked at her so sincerely, almost begging, maybe even slightly angry. Cailin looked up at him, biting her lip. "6 months ago, I would have said no way."

His voice cracked as he asked, "and now?"

"Now I've met you, and you've changed my whole world, Jeff Clarke."

He leaned over and kissed her, "I hope for the better."

"I'd say for the best," she replied, pulling him down to her.


	30. Stamp a Fire Out

**Chapter 30: Stamp a Fire Out**

_A/N: Super cheery weekend update *sarcasm*. This is the Jones' suicide chapter, so if you think that might be a trigger for you, skip ahead. We don't really know what happened, so I am taking liberties. On the y'all are awesome side, just realized in less than 20 reviews, this will be my most reviewed story ever on here! _

* * *

Cailin was late getting to the precinct and sleep deprived, but given that she wasn't up first for assignment and she felt her time had been better spent and certainly much more appreciate at Clarke's, she didn't really care.

Until Belden got on her case and threatened to ping her file. She probably shouldn't have pointed out Helling's empty desk, because all that happened was she ended up with a floater, a child rape case and a handful of 'didn't see nothings'; keeping her busy and disgusted through the next few days.

Clarke was busy fake subbing up at 25; and while Cailin thought about avoiding Molly's to not let the truth slip out, Matt called wanting to catch up for a quick drink since Gabby and Leslie had left for their trip and she couldn't say no.

"What no big boys night out?" Cailin asked after giving Matt a hug, grateful that the bar was fairly quiet.

Matt ducked his head, "I'm playing poker later, but still wanted to catch up."

"I feel so honored," Cailin smiled, "how are things at 51? I've been too busy this week and with the girls gone, I haven't gotten my normal dose of gossip."

"Don't forget Clarke subbing out, you must really be out of the loop," he teased, though he looked at her searchingly.

Cailin took a long drink of her beer to stop herself from blurting anything out. Had Severide said anything? She really had to convince Jeff to tell Matt at the very least, it wasn't fair to lie to her best friend of a million years. "It's awful, feel like the cool kids aren't letting me sit at their table. Speaking of which, I tried again with Jones, just for you, buddy."

"Let me guess, you two didn't end up braiding each other's hair?" Matt took his own long drink. He was pulling for Jones, seeing her determination and knowing she could be a good firefighter. He was also hoping to support Gabby, intent on following the same path; he would want her treated with fairness and respect. But even with Mills trying to guide her, Jones kept making things harder on herself than she needed to and that was without everything her father was doing.

"I can only do so much, Matty. I owned up to being a bitch and she shut me down. Basically told me to stop hanging around 51 while like I was Pouch." Cailin waved at the air, "let's move on. How are things with Gabby? Between you and I, I swear. Oh, and my mother informed me I better bring you with me the next time I come to dinner. I can only handle one person's worth of guilt from her, so consider it a done deal."

Matt laughed at the last statement, "your mother means well, Cal, always has, but I'll not disappoint her." His look turned serious, "I tried to visit your pops the other day. He wasn't up to visitors."

Cailin nodded, sadly, "I know. I've tried, even with the nurses letting me skate past visiting hours. He's declining, rapidly and has turned into an escape artist. They had to move him to a more intensive unit. Maybe I should have come home more, would have seen things getting bad, could have done...something."

"Cally, don't. Your mother might be best at placing guilt on others, but you blow her out of the water with doing it to yourself. I still saw them, so did Christy, so did plenty CFD guys; it really has been over the past couple of years."

"So even if I had moved home sooner, I wouldn't have seen a damn thing anyway?" She rolled her eyes, "please, moving on to happy topics. How are things with your hot tamale?" She caught the glint in his eyes. "Matthew Casey, what did you do?" she demanded, knowing his expression was one of frustration and shame.

Matt let out a grunt. "Sometimes having known you forever really stinks, Cal. How do you know I did anything?" Cailin didn't reply, just kept looking at him, arms crossed over her chest. "We sort of got into an argument before she left. I've tried being supportive of her going through the academy; but last time this year she was talking about going to med school. I just want to know she has committed to this, you know if you aren't 110% on the job, that's how people get hurt or worse. Cailin nodded, letting her friend vent. "And she and I have had some dust-ups about Jones. I was trying to keep it quiet about her father until Boden and I decided for sure what to do and then Gabby has to announce it to the entire bar. That's all on top of dealing with the after effects of my accident. Oh, and then she said something about us stopping looking for an apartment together."

Cailin let out a sigh, unsure of where to begin. "That's a lot, Matt, and I don't know what to tell you. Except be supportive, dumb ass, whether she wants to be a firefighter or a doctor or an astronaut. Gabby is one of the most driven, focused people I know and she will be 200% awesome at whatever she decides to do. Everybody isn't like you, Matt, knowing what they want to be when they grow up, getting to Lieutenant before 30. Look at Hermann or-" she cut herself off. "Anyway, just let her figure it out on her own and be her rock no matter what. That is what being in a relationship is about. I'm not even going to talk to you about anything with Jones, I'm steering clear of that whole situation. Gabby knows you are still struggling, I am sure she has cut you plenty of slack, cut yourself some. And you two better still be getting a place together, because if she wants her place back, you and I are then roomies, because there is no way I am going back to living in Mt. Greenwood."

"Thanks, I think," Matt said, finishing his beer. "It's just a rough patch, to be expected. Though I probably could stand to verbalize how much I love and support her a little bit more."

"You think?" she replied, shaking her head.

"Speaking of supports, you and Clarke going steady?"

"Yeah, he totally is letting me wear his Varsity Jacket, we might even go to the prom. Really, Matt, what is this 1954?"

Matt flushed slightly, "well, I didn't know what to call it."

"I don't know what to call it either, except it is good and for that, I am thankful," Cailin replied, not able to hide her smile.

Matt returned her grin, "in that case, me too." He pulled out his buzzing phone, "gotta go, guys are ready and the ribs just got there. Let me know about dinner at your parents'."

Cailin thought about staying around Molly's since Clarke was on shift, wondering if it would pick up since it was a Saturday night and she knew she would be spending the next day at the precinct. But then she realized that nobody she wanted to spend time with was actually there, other than Hermann; and she just couldn't handle awkward conversation with him and not slip up about Clarke. She headed out for Gabby's thinking it was odd she was heading in while everyone else was heading out and that she really couldn't go back to Molly's until everyone knew about Clarke's transfer.

* * *

Cailin was up to her eyeballs in a case box, reviewing her notes, knowing she would be called to testify at some point during the upcoming week. It was late and a Sunday at that, so the Violent Crimes pen was rather quiet. The only other person there was the detective on-duty all weekend, Detective Kingwood. She had been able to ignore the squawk of the dispatch radio most of the night until something made her ears perk up. _'Multiple reports of a gunshot in an apartment at North Carpenter and West Randolph. Please respond.'_ Cailin tried to figure out why that address sounded familiar to her before going back to her barely legible scrawl in her memo book.

The next time the radio crackled to life, it was dispatch directly for Kingwood. _'Requesting detective to scene at 1027 West Madison, apartment located above Old 5th. Victim has been confirmed by patrol. White female, early 20's, single gunshot wound, appears self-inflicted, DOA. Please respond with ETA to scene.' _

Cailin froze, above Old Fifth. Wasn't that where Jones lived? She remembered the woman saying something about it at Molly's something, about cheating on the place in her building. It couldn't be, could it? Cailin paled, already grabbing her coat. "Kingwood, I'm coming with you."

"I know how to work a suicide, kid, I've been on the job since before you were born, probably," Kingwood said, shaking his head.

"I'm not-just, I'm coming along!" she snapped, close on his heels.

She had seen far more gruesome scenes; but somehow it being someone she knew, had unresolved issues with, made this one all the worse. Cal had to hold on to the wall to stay upright, her stomach rolling violently.

"Come on kid this isn't the worst one you've possibly seen. It was only a Smith & Wesson .357 to the temple. You should have seen this one guy, shotgun right up under there," Kingwood gestured below his chin. "Ceiling fan was on, they're probably still finding pieces of-"

Cal clasped her hand to her stomach, barely making it to the toilet in time, knowing she would get bitched at by the techs for compromising a scene. She splashed cold water on her face, feeling like she was sleepwalking. Cal walked up behind Kingwood, forcing herself to look, to make sure before saying, "consider this a positive ID, victim is Rebbeca Jones, 24, firefighter candidate at 51, daughter of CFD Chief Lionel Jones. I'll make the notification."

"Crap, you knew her? No wonder you tossed your cookies. It's a shame, she was quite the looker," Kingwod remarked pointing at a photgraph on the wall of Jones in her graduation regalia. "You sure you want to notify?" Cailin nodded.

"What about this?" one of the techs asked, holding up a creamy envelope that looked like fancy card stock.

Cailin could plainly see Dawson's name written on the front. "Process it, then let me know, I know who it goes to. Gabriela Dawson, they were candidates together and she's the PIC at 51."

"Don't suppose you know why she did it, make this real easy on me?" Kingwood asked.

"We don't need motive when someone offs themselves, ME will rule it a suicide; just get the paperwork done. If you're that curious, read the damn note," Cailin said, before storming out to find a uniform to drive her over to Old Town to notify Chief Jones; pulling out her phone to make a call first.

Cailin couldn't tell if Lionel Jones was putting on a brave face for her or not, but he barely reacted after she had informed him his only daughter was dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.

"Thank you for letting me know, Detective," he said curtly, practically shutting the door in her face.

She stuck her foot out to stop it. "Sir, there are support resources available if you need them, through victim services or CFD, if you prefer. My father says Chaplain Mulroney is good." She searched his face for any hint of emotion, finally seeing a small hint of anger. She had witnessed an entire spectrum of emotions after such visits, this wasn't the first time she has seen such stoicism. But maybe because of her own tenuous interactions with Jones, she had hoped for something more emotional, grief-stricken.

"I will keep that in mind, Detective Cal- wait you're Connie Callahan's youngest."

"Yes, sir." She saw another hint of emotion, though this time it was pity and directed toward her.

"I was sorry to hear about his...condition...he's a good man."

She stood there feeling completely awkward. "Thank you, sir."

Chief Jones must have sensed her discomfort, giving her a short nod, saying "if you'll excuse me, there are some phone calls I need to make."

* * *

Despite it being close to 3am, Cailin found herself in front of Jeff's door, having the uniform drop her there, without having called first. He had worked a 24 before and knew she was doing trial prep, expected at the courthouse first thing Monday morning. They hadn't planned to see each other until Monday evening, planning to attempt an actual date given she would be on a court schedule all week.

She knocked, wincing as she realized she had just cop-knocked on his door. She could hear him stride up to the door, looking through the peephole. She knew if it was her, she would be expecting the actual cops standing there; which is probably why he looked so confused when he immediately swung the door open.

"Cally, what's going on?" he asked, his tone one of surprise and worry.

"It's-" her words got caught in her throat. She cleared it a few times, finally coming out with, "it's Jones. She shot herself a couple of hours ago." She fell as much as he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, wanting the entire world to disappear.

He moved them both over to his couch, holding her until she gathered herself.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just dumped that on you," she apologized, "you knew her too, better…" she trailed off, wiping her eyes and pulling away from him.

Jeff put a hand on each of her upper arms, pulling her back towards him. "Cally, you didn't dump anything on me. Something bad happened, you came to me for support; that's what you're supposed to do."

"Yeah, but she was part of your house, your candidate. I was awful to her, I have no right to, well, anything!" she protested.

"You have every right, that's what loving someone means; thick and thin. 51 is your family, too, babe, before I even got there. You and Jones may have had your differences, but you weren't awful to her, not by a long shot. Shay told me all what happened, none of it was right, but none of it was your fault." Jeff looked her, studying her closely. "You know you didn't have anything to do with this, right? With what Rebecca chose to do, to herself?" he stressed the words, hoping she wasn't adding to her already pervasive guilt.

Cailin gave a small shrug, "well I sure as hell wasn't exactly a beacon of light now was I?" She shook her head, "I know, Jeff. This was her choice, because she didn't feel she had any other choice. I know I can't come up with a rationalization. But seeing her, in her place, with all those photographs of her looking happy and hopeful and then having to tell her father…" She shivered, rubbing at her arms.

* * *

Clarke heard the pounding on his front door, springing up from his bed on high alert. He was dreaming, not quite a nightmare but certainly not the peaceful dreams he experienced with Cal curled at his side. Three nights, they had only spent three nights together, short nights for two of them; yet he couldn't remember the last time he slept that soundly. Cailin nestled on his chest, or wrapped around her figure a more effective drug than anything the VA doled out. Subbing on Truck 25 had gone fine and he knew the transfer was the right move for his CFD career; but the past few weeks had taught him that 51 was family and Cally was home.

He looked through the peep-hole, expecting to find Dawson or Halstead there wanting to bring him in for more asinine questioning, shocked when he saw Cailin. Neurotransmitters flooded his body at seeing her standing there; he didn't care how late it was, his alertness turned to arousal. Until he flung open the door and saw her, pale and shaking, palm pressed against the door frame, fighting to stay upright. His adrenaline shifted, awash with anxiety and concern and his tried to figure out what had happened. He knew it was something big and bad, and she needed him.

Clarke wasn't expecting the news about Jones, didn't believe it as Cal fell into his arms. He knew the candidate had a tough go of it from her family, but all indications were that she was holding her own. Jones was fierce in her dedication, willing to do anything to prove herself, even if it pissed people off. That took gumption, bravery, the very things you wanted in a firefighter. She was legacy through and through; hell, one of her brothers was on his truck. Damn, one of her brothers was on his truck. He shook the thought off, Cally practically collapsed against him, giving the briefest outline of what she had been through that night.

His mind wandered to Gil, not his only war buddy to check out permanently, but the one he almost saved but didn't. He had watched out for the other man, knew he needed to. But Jones? Sure he had heard from Mills she was ticked about her dad trying to bench her, this wasn't the kind of reaction he would have expected. Then again, you never really knew what was happening deep in someone's heart and mind, never knew how close they were to running out of sand.

He tried to placate Cailin, knowing it was a doomed mission, taking the smallest comfort that she wasn't internalizing this; that her clashes with Jones didn't make the woman commit this awful and final act. He saw her shivering, rubbed her arms and pulled her to his chest once again. "Let's go to bed, Cal, you need to sleep," he said; hoping he could give her even the slightest respite before she got pulled back into the fray.


	31. Burning Both Ends

**Chapter 31: Burning Both Ends**

* * *

Cailin desperately wanted to hide in Jeff's bed and arms for eternity. However, three short hours after practically collapsing on his doorstep, she had to be back at it; needing to check in with Belden before heading to the courthouse. Regardless of anything else going on, she was still expected to show up and wait to testify. Because sitting around thinking was exactly what she needed to do, she thought sarcastically as she straightened her suit before sitting on a bench outside the court room. She couldn't help but think of the last time she saw Jones, hightailing it of Molly's looking ready for a close-up on Law & Order.

She wondered how 51 was going to take the news; Gabby hadn't returned her texts, Matt finally sending her one that said he was 'on it'. Cailin knew that they would probably all clam up, stuff their feelings deep down. First responders weren't allowed to be weak, Jones killing herself would be seen as a weak act, therefore they probably would barely even acknowledge it. She shook her head, angry and frustrated. "Damn it, girl," she swore, the anger welling up in her, even as she wondered who she was most angry at.

The entire week a waste in Cailin's book, waiting to get called up on a triple homicide from months ago. Stalling tactics were in full effect on both sides and Cailin patience was beyond thin. Which is probably why she almost took the head off the crime lab tech that informed her the note Jones had left for Gabby had already been released, some uniform being sent down to 51 to give it to Gabby. "What the hell is wrong with you guys, it was a simple enough instruction. You are responsible for the processing of evidence, which is important in putting away the people I arrest. So you're telling me I risk my neck every damn day out there so murderers can walk free because all of you don't know your ass from a hole in the ground?" she raged at the tech who looked more like an intern. "Freaking idiots," she said, shaking her head and storming out of the evidence room, heading back to the bench now bearing an imprint of her butt.

Cal knew she was out of line, but she just couldn't real her emotions in, everything about her seemed a raw nerve. It didn't help that she was spending her nights alone; Clarke picking up an extra couple of shifts so that Brandon Jones, who he finally revealed was on his truck, could handle family matters. He wasn't generous with the details, which shouldn't have surprised her;though it did kind of sting, worried he was shutting her out. As far as she could gather, the Jones' family had moved for a quick and private burial for Rebecca open only to family members. Cailin wasn't sure why that rubbed her the wrong way, she would have felt weird showing up to the other woman's funeral had it been a full CFD burial, but something about it irked her. As though the woman's life was being quickly swept under the rug. So much for gone but not forgotten.

After finally testifying, Cailin didn't wait around to hear the verdict, her faith in the justice system as low as her faith in humanity; instead heading back to the precinct. She pulled out her phone to call Gabby yet again, wondering if she had made a mistake calling the woman in the first place. After it went to voice mail, she changed directions, heading up to IU to see if Antonio had talked to his sister recently.

* * *

They were in the middle of an eight million dollar heist case linked back to Colombians and Latin Kings. Cailin managed to walk in right as Voight was announcing the need for two high-class hookers. All heads swiveled to her, including Detective Lindsay's, Cailin thought the woman looked more than a little relived at her arrival. She could only imagine how many things Erin got forced into being the only female on the team. Cailin had spent a good part of career doing just such things. Which is why she shook her head, "not a chance. I've managed an entire week of not pissing Belden off, I am not about to play Pretty Woman for IU."

"You only didn't piss him off because you've been at the courthouse all week," Voight remarked, thinking she would have done a good job; though his attention quickly moved to Burgess, volunteering to go under.

Cailin narrowed her eyes, first at Voight knowing where she had been all week and secondly at the very green officer willing to go undercover so easily. It reminded her of herself when she was first cutting her teeth, and not entirely in a good way. Cal had gotten herself into more than one sticky situation by being diving in without looking. That was how people didn't come home at end of watch. At least the unit was the best at what they did and would close ranks around Burgess, hopefully keeping her safe. Cailin worried that Voight might throw her to the wolves, but the rest of them…she shot Erin a look, the woman nodding back.

She strode over to Antonio as he was pulling his vest on, checking his equipment. "Look, I know you aren't her keeper, but when this settles down, will you check in on your sister?"

Antonio nodded, "yeah, something going on? I don't have to kick Casey's ass do I?"

"I would have done that already, Dawson. Nah, it's just 51's candidate, Rebecca Jones…" she trailed off, seeing the recognition on the other detective's face.

"Yeah, I heard about that. I didn't know Gabby was close to her."

Cailin shrugged, "they had gotten closer, I think. I, um, was at the scene. Jones left her a note. I wanted to give it to her, but some moron in evidence released it. She hasn't returned my calls, so I just thought maybe you could?" she gestured for him to call her.

He nodded again, "on it, after we put Ramirez away. You sure you don't want in, look like you could blow off some steam."

"Nah, let the boot take it, seems like she actually wants in this unit. Plus, I don't want to blow off steam by getting an excessive force complaint from some POS john; which is about where I am at right now," she shrugged. "I'll let you get back to it, but I'll see you around." She tried to ignore Voight and Lindsay watching her as she walked out, especially after she heard Erin remark, "it really would be helpful to have another experienced female up here."

* * *

Cailin let herself back into Gabby's, feeling alone and a little lost. She couldn't handle being around her family now, even though she knew they would accept her with open arms. She had tried to visit her father, but the nurse warned her off, apparently he had been particularly violent with an orderly. Everyone was on shift at 51 and while she knew she could stop by, she knew tensions could be running high and she didn't want Gabby to think she was stalking her. Clarke was also working up at 102 and she didn't want her first introduction to the guys from truck 25 to be that of the clinging, bored girlfriend. None of her old friends in the civilian world understood what her life was like, so she had let all those friendships fall to the wayside.

She spent the night feeling rather sorry for herself, finally opening up the five boxes from New York and instantly regretting that she had. Between Jones and the realization that it was inching closer to the anniversary of Jimmy's death, the memories flooded over her with a crushing weight. She would have given into a full pity party if she hadn't gotten a phone call from Matt.

"Is Gabby, okay? Is she ticked at me because I called her to let her know about Jones first? I just thought she should know. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do. Aren't you on shift? Where are you calling me from? It sounds like you are calling me from inside a locker." Cailin's words came out in a rush, making her realize she really needed a hobby.

Matt let out a snort. "I'm doing inventory in the equipment room. Or at least that is what I told everyone so they would stay out. I'm glad you called Gabby, better for her to hear it from you instead of the third hand information we've gotten. She's trying to shut us all out, be the tough girl."

"Sounds about right, you aren't letting her though, right?" Cailin pressed.

"Nope, thankfully you've given me practice," he laughed, somewhat nervously. "But that isn't what I called, speaking of wanting to hear things first hand…I was thinking about our talk and then everything with Jones and I sort of had Shay meet me down at a jewelry store yesterday to look at rings for Gabby."

Cailin blinked rapidly, doing a fish out of water impression before slumping back down on the bed. She wasn't sure why she was so shocked. She had known her entire life Matt wanted nothing more than to settle down and have the nice, normal, happy family he didn't have growing up; her family's basically. "Engagement rings?" she finally squeaked out.

"No, nose rings. Yes, of course engagement rings. You don't think I'm moving too fast do you?"

Cailin's response was from the heart, "Matt, I think you and I have both learned more times than anyone ever should that life is a fragile blip and you have to reach out and hold on to whatever you can whenever you can." She realized she was actually holding a photo of the OCCB team at the NY Police Foundation Gala from three years earlier. "I'm happy for you, Matty, I really am."

Matt was trying to figure out the tone of his friends' voice. He believed her when she said she was happy for him, but there was something slightly…was it wistful, in her voice. "Uh, so the news also got out about Clarke."

"Sorry I didn't give you a heads up on that," Cailin replied with a sigh.

"It's fine, Severide did," Matt admitted. "It's good for him though, the promotion. I've heard good things about that house and truck, too." He paused, "he's good for you, Cal and you for him. Remember what you told me about second chances."

"I will, Matt, promise." She was about to say something more when she heard a call come in for him. "Stay safe, Matt. And you better tell me before you pop the question," she warned.

* * *

Cailin tried to force herself to feel more excited for her friend as well as relishing in the fact that she too had a second chance, but being alone and opening what amounted to Pandora's boxes meant a restless night filled with bad dreams and tossing and turning. Once again, Clarke proved able to read her even if from a distance. Her phone buzzed right before he got off shift. She answered it, having already given up on sleep.

"Hey, I didn't wake you, did I?" Clarke asked, his voice slightly horse and tired.

Cailin smiled into the phone, relief spreading through her body just at the sound of his voice; even if she didn't like him sounding weary. "I've actually been up for a while."

"Did you catch a case?" he asked, worry creeping into his tone. He knew from the bit they had been able to talk that she was struggling with Jones' death in addition to her ongoing battles with her boss; he hoped she would be able to actually catch a breather being stuck at the courthouse all week.

"Nah, seems I have a little problem actually being able to sleep with you or narcotics; and your side effects are much more pleasant, cowboy," she chuckled. "What about you, burning the candle at both ends with back-to-backs?"

"I've been through worse, gotta do what you gotta do, huh? Especially in a new house and covering for Brandon. I just wanted to check in, hear your actual voice instead of your voice mail greeting," he admitted. "Maybe even catch breakfast?" He was nearly desperate to see her, something compounded after his visit to 51 the day before. Clarke was surprised at Hermann's vitriol, though that seemed to have been assuaged. He was less shocked at Gabby's especially considering he knew about the note. Revealing to the house that Jones had struggled her entire life fighting a beast that wouldn't lie down gave him little comfort; he knew he wouldn't have a second of contentment until he laid eyes and hands on Cally.

Cailin tried to not sound too eager as she replied, "sounds good. I don't make a mean omelet," she teased, "but there's a place around the corner that does."

* * *

Clarke's drive down from Rogers Park afforded Cailin the chance to take a shower and look like she made an effort, though part of her hoped she didn't look like she had made too much of an effort. She couldn't quite figure out why she was so intent on not being a girly-girl; other than the fact that she never had been one, except when called for on undercover assignments. That and she wanted things to be easy between her and Jeff or as easy as they could be. Both of them had obviously experienced rather complicated relationship histories and even their own had almost been extinguished before it started on more than one occasion. She was trying to be nonchalant as she sat at a sunny corner table in the restaurant, situated with her back to a corner, surreptitiously glancing every time the bell on the door sounded as she drank her coffee and flipped through the _Reader_.

Clarke caught sight of her through the window before he entered; bathed in a beam of sunlight, it catching her golden hair and making it glow. She was sitting in a corner, part of her always on duty; flipping through the free rag and absently tracing the rim of her mug. Her long-sleeved tee seemed a bit too big on her and he couldn't help put imagine her curled up in front of the fireplace at the cabin wearing one of his...he smiled at the thought, before shaking himself back to reality and entering the restaurant. He saw her furtively glance up, her head and a smile fully rising as she realized it was him. His heart thudded slightly faster as their eyes met, he felt his own smile grow as she quipped, "hey look, tablecloths," as she held up a corner of fabric.

"Only took us how, long?" he replied, leaning in to give her a kiss before sliding out the chair across from her. "Anything exciting happening in the city?" he asked, gesturing to her paper.

Cailin smirked, setting the paper down, "always something happening in our fair city, just can't ever actually make plans to go do anything. Maybe if Belden didn't hate me so much..." she shrugged, trailing off. "But forget my work, how's truck 25, Lieutenant?" she gestured at his newly embroidered jacket.

He gave a boyish grin, "it's good, except for, you know," he shrugged, interrupted by a waitress who suddenly was extremely interested in the corner of the restaurant she had barely glanced at while Cailin was sitting there.

Cailin couldn't blame her, Jeff's figure was worthy of admiring even without still being in his catnip CFD uniform. Though something about it being far more rumpled than his usual Marine standards made her want to tuck him bed and do his laundry, something she barely could accomplish for herself. She was musing on this, letting out a small snort as the waitress suggested the house special omelet, flushing slightly at the heated and flirtatious look Jeff shot her. It was enough of a look that the waitress quickly scribbled down their order and retreated.

"Smooth, Callahan," he playfully chided.

"Look, bub, you should be happy I didn't ask for it to go. And that's only because you look exhausted. We could have caught up later, after you crashed out." she said, reaching across the table to weave her fingers through his and squee-ing, gently. "Lord knows I get the crazy schedule, sleep when you can thing."

He squeezed her hand back, wishing the table wasn't between them. "Yeah, well how about the I love you and will sleep a lot better after seeing you thing?"

"Suppose I can't and shouldn't argue with that," she said, wishing for a brief moment they both had normal careers. But then they wouldn't be them and she doubted they would be as connected as they were if that was the case.

"No, you shouldn't," he said, biting his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. He took a second to ponder how much easier it would be if they didn't have to sneak in a moment here and there or sacrificing sleep to spend time with each other before rushing back to the other's place to catch a shower or change clothes. He knew it would get easier once he stopped doing so many back-to-backs and if Cally's freaking boss stopped riding her so damn hard. A realization followed by a plan quickly popped into his head. "So I was thinking," he said, looking slightly serious.

Cailin took in his change of demeanor, a little worried. "Thinking is good, usually, but don't you think you should get some sleep before you do any heavy thinking?" she cracked, trying to cover her nervousness at his expression.

He rolled his eyes. "Cal," he grumbled. "What I was going to say was how about after we eat, you tuck me in and then later, I'll pick you up and we'll go on that date we've been trying for, what, six months now?"

"Has it seriously been that long? We are really bad at this dating thing," she remarked, with a playful smile.

"But we're great at other things," he remarked digging into the food the waitress set in front of them.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I know there is another woman in the IU on CPD, but it's my story and I can do what I want. As far as I'm concerned, Det. Sumner didn't happen. No offense to the lovely Sydney Tamiia Poitier, I just needed to cut myself a break somewhere with all the FD/PD crossovers!_


	32. Fireworks

**Chapter 32: Fireworks**

_A/N: I decided they deserved a little fun and a night out. The restaurant is based on an actual place, and the line about what women were wearing was actually uttered by my friend. A shout out to Ms Isabella and Jaylor for inspiring the fireworks scene, though I did take artistic liberties with them happening in April. Sssshhhhhh! :) Good news/bad news: I'll be starting a new job, so updates may be a bit slower. _

* * *

Cailin was desperate, she legitimately couldn't remember the last time she had been on a date, especially one that didn't involve going to a sporting event or a black-tie affair. Of course Gabby was busy with Matt and unable to do more than to tell her she was welcome to anything she had left in the closet. Which would have been more helpful if Cal knew where the hell Jeff was taking her and if she didn't feel like she was playing dress-up in Gabby's clothes. Finally at wit's end, she called Leslie Shay.

"Have no fear, your Fairy Godmother is here. Wait can I be a fairy? Lesbo God- that doesn't work either. Please tell me you are not thinking about wearing that!" Shay exclaimed as Cailin swung open the door.

"No, I don't think I am," Cailin said, flushed and frustrated, holding the fabric to her chest, "I can't even tell if it is a skirt or a shirt." "Help," she moaned, padding off.

Shay looked around Gabby's former bedroom, trying to make heads or tails of the clothing strewn everywhere. "Didn't I tell you months ago we needed to talk about your wardrobe," she quipped, holding a cardigan between her finger and thumb like it was garbage. Cailin just glared at her. A wide grin spread across Shay's face, "hey, look on the bright side, at least Clarke's already seen you naked."

Cailin growled, "yes, but I can't go out naked. This is dumb, we've been fine without going on a 'date'", she made angry air-quotes, "this entire time. I am not made for dates, Shay!"

"You will be when I am done with you," Shay said, getting a look of determination in her eyes.

"I'd do you," she said when she finished working her magic some time later.

"Good to-holy shit!" Cailin exclaimed, catching sight of herself in the mirror. "You did a lot better with me than Mouch's online dating profile," she said, admiring her smokey-eyes and just-ravished hair.

Shay snorted, "I'm good, Cally, not a miracle worker. And that works much better as a skirt," she finished, pointing to the black fabric that her perplexed her friend earlier. The doorbell rang and Shay waggled her eyebrows, "showtime. And I'm staying to make sure you actually go out, because I may have outdone myself this time. Oh and these, not those," she said; throwing a pair of heels in Cailin's direction, stealing the flats her friend had planned on wearing.

"If I fall and break my neck, I'm blaming you, Shay," Cailin announced as she stepped into the living room after finally getting the damn shoes on.

"I'll catch-" Clarke started until he caught sight of Cailin and lost the ability to speak. Captivated by her since the first moment he laid eyes on her as she was certainly beautiful; but standing before him, dressed to the nines, he couldn't decide if he wanted to take her out every night or have them never leave the bedroom.

"My work here is done. Have fun you two, and stay out late. Way late. You better have something awesome planned, Clarke, I don't want my efforts going to waste," Shay said, practically shoving them out the door. It was then she realized she was holding the flowers Clarke had brought for Cally. "I'll get these in water. Go, shoo!"

"She does know we could just go to your place, right?" Cailin quipped, taking Clarke's offered hand as she maneuvered down the steps.

"We could, but we aren't," he shot back, opening the car door for her, "I am not about to tick off Leslie Shay as much as I might not want to share you looking like that with the rest of the world."

* * *

"And we're here," Clarke said, stepping them into what looked like the lobby to an office building except for the bored looking woman wearing a dinner napkin as a dress at a podium.

"You do have a reservation, right?" she asked in a haughty voice with a perfectly arched eyebrow raise. Clarke gave a slight scowl and a nod, to which the woman replied by sighing and punching in a code to call the elevator.

Cailin snorted as soon as the doors slid shut behind them, "think she practices that look in the mirror?"

"Oh yeah," Clarke said, with a smile, which faded when he saw her brow crease in worry. "Cal?" He followed her line of sight into the restaurant, or more accurately to the velvet rope in the vestibule outside the restaurant.

"I don't know if I am cool enough to eat here, babe," she said, worriedly.

Clarke smiled at her, knowing exactly why she felt that way, the scene was pretty much the exact opposite of anywhere they had previously been and looked far more like someplace Severide would get dragged to by one of his flings who wanted to see and be seen. But there was a method to his madness.

"Well, well, finally take me up on my offer, huh, fireboy?" said an impeccably dressed man coming up to them offering his hand, flashing too many white teeth and appraising Cailin a little too closely until Clarke squeezed it tightly.

"Joseph good to see you, glad this place finally got off the ground. Cally, this is Joseph Donati, he likes to brag about owning this place." Joseph wrenched his hand from Clarke's and offered it to Cailin, a little taken aback by her grip as well. Clarke caught the exchange and smirked down at Cal. "She's a cop, so everything better be on the up and up," Clarke teased.

Cailin nudged him lightly with her elbow, "very much off duty. Nice to meet you, Joseph, interesting place you've got here, though I am having trouble figuring out if it is a nightclub or a restaurant," she remarked, having to raise her voice over the very loud DJ.

"A little of both, more of the former on weekend nights. But it wouldn't be anything if this one hadn't found the fire still hidden in the vent system. Cop, huh, wouldn't have guessed," he said, with another shark-toothed grin. "Anyway, come with me, away from all this," he said, motioning for them to follow them.

Joseph snaked them through the eating, drinking and dancing crowd, Cailin's eyes fighting to adjust in the dim blue lights reflecting off the stark white surfaces. She was thankful for Jeff's arm around her waist, parting the crowd for them and keeping her upright. He turned a corner and pushed aside a curtain and there, magically, was a significantly quieter and blessedly empty second dining room. "Enjoy," he said, pulling out a chair for Cailin.

"How come I put bad guys away all the time and I don't get hockey tickets and last-minute private dining reservations?" she said, with something between a smirk and a scowl.

Clarke shrugged, "don't know, people are weird. I'm just glad he didn't try to put us in the middle of all that."

"Me too. You know I was worried that this skirt was too short but apparently peplum and buttcheek are de rigueur this season," Cailin said, refraining from additional commentary as a server arrived with a bottle of sparkling sake.

Clarke waited for the server to pour and then disappear before raising his glass and saying, "you look gorgeous, and far classier than any of the lot out there."

Cailin blushed slightly before tapping her glass against his. "You clean up nicely yourself, cowboy," she said, fully taking in his crisp light blue button-down and charcoal slacks, his blazer neatly draped over his chair.

He smiled, he had felt like he was going to his first dance trying to get ready. Tying and untying his tie and switching between dark jeans and slacks countless times before he realized he was running late.

* * *

They enjoyed a long dinner, all decided by the sushi chef and Joseph. The conversation mostly lighthearted; exploits from childhood, poking fun at the 51 crew. They enjoyed spending quiet time together with the exception of the background thumping of music and the occasional sound of breaking glass from upfront. Finally, Clarke glanced at his watch and said, "unless you want to club it up, we should go if we want to be on time."

Cailin looked at him curiously, not expecting anything more than the already over the top dinner, but took his hand and followed him out of the restaurant. The night air had chilled, despite the tease of spring earlier that day. Without even saying anything, Cailin felt his blazer being draped over her shoulders, his arm pulling her close to him. "Thanks, Jeff," she said, turning further into him and pulling herself up to give him a kiss, not caring about the audience waiting to get into the restaurant.

"Shay said we had to stay out late," he growled, suddenly wanting to double-back to the car.

"I think she's probably left by now."

"A dinner is not a date, Cailin," he protested, striding off before he changed plans.

Cailin didn't have to work to catch up to him, as soon as he heard her heels clacking, he paused, though he stayed looking straight ahead. "I thought we had already clarified we are bad at dating," she said, trying to steady herself as her heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. "As I was saying," she joked as he reached out to grab her.

"Come on," he said, smirking at her, "it's like three blocks, but I can carry you if needed."

"Hose-dragger show off. I got it," she replied, though she still took his arm again.

Upon arriving at their destination she looked at him curiously again, but more bemused than she was in front of the restaurant. "Just trust me, Callahan."

"Don't tell me you rescued John Hancock's great-great-grandaughter's kitten from a tree, Jeff, because I don't buy it."

"No, this is all me, and that newspaper you were reading today," he tacked on, sheepishly.

Even though Cailin had been there on plenty of field trips as a child, it had been years since she had been up to the observatory and it certainly had changed. Plus there was something about being wrapped in Clarke's arms that made the city lights all the more magical. "This is nicer than being forced here by nuns in middle school."

"Just wait," he said, moving them around slightly, looking at his watch again and kissing her on top of her head.

Not two minutes later the first of the fireworks from Navy Pier started, exploding and blossoming into technicolor below them; an odd effect, above fireworks. She whistled as the show neared the grand finale, "pretty spectacular," she said.

"I'd say," he replied, looking entirely at her and not at all at the fireworks.

Her eyes slid towards him, though she didn't move her head, only leaning slightly over and lowering her voice as she said, "can we go make fireworks of our own now?"

* * *

Cal felt Jeff move behind her as she was at the stove cooking breakfast the next morning. The simplicity of a lazy Sunday morning off more of a miracle for them than most couples.

"Morning, gorgeous," he said, moving in closer, brushing her hair back to kiss her on the neck.

"Morning, handsome," she replied with a smile, swatting his hand away from the frying bacon before turning and rising on tiptoe to kiss him back before she turned her attention back to the french toast in the pan.

"I thought you said you couldn't cook breakfast," he remarked with a sly grin on his way to the coffee maker.

She shook her head, "I believe what I said was 'I don't make a mean omelet', going to leave that up to you. French toast, pancakes, all the carbs, I am your girl. And bennies, of the egg variety, not the Severide kind," she joked, electricity zinging throughout her body as she watched him pour coffee, clad only in his boxers and undershirt; both still glowing from the night before.

Clarke shook his head with a laugh, "they are just folded eggs, Cally, no big secret." He studied her as she turned back to the stove; the hot grease in the pan next to her the only thing stopping him from going over and sliding his hand up her leg and under the oversized t-shirt she was wearing. Fireworks had indeed been made; yet he was increasingly realizing that just sharing the same airspace with her did that. They could be fully clothed and his world would suddenly be bathed in exploding light as long as he was with her. "Did you enjoy last night?" he asked, hoping he had done well.

Her raised eyebrows and smirk followed by, "you really gotta ask that, cowboy? Glad I didn't have to badge the neighbors on a noise complaint."

"Not what I meant, Callahan," he growled, taking a long drink of coffee, the hot liquid still managing to cool him down.

"It was perfect, Jeff, really. I'm sorry if I didn't seem excited enough, as I said I'm a bit of a fish out of water on the whole dating scene. You did great and it was nice to get out, especially after this whole Jones thing," she said, putting the bacon on a plate to drain.

Clarke worked his jaw, "yeah, it's been tough. Brandon's pretty closed mouthed about it, hell even 51 is, except Gabby."

She sucked in a breath, "you talked to her?" Relief flooded over her, while Matt had briefly updated her on Gabby; Shay had suspiciously avoided bringing up the topic of their other friend while helping her get ready. She felt relieved that someone else had talked to her, even if she hadn't. Damn evidence techs.

"I stopped by Friday, figured they should hear about the transfer from the horse's mouth. She lit into Chief Jones pretty hard, not that I blame her. She's just angry, maybe a little scared." He leaned against the counter, shaking his head with sadness. He knew how it felt at the bottom of that hole, the difference was he had always fought and clawed his way to the top.

Cailin turned off the burner, looking down at the french toast in the pan. She knew all too well what it felt like when the world seemed against you. How the darkness seemed the only relief, the ultimate escape. But she had never seriously considered tapping out for good, despite all the pills and her drop gun around. She may have been dead to the world for months after Jimmy's death, but she wasn't ever ready to leave it. Cailin knew she also was angry and a little scared. She turned to where he was leaning against the counter, closing the distance between them but stopping just shy of contact him. She looked up at him, her eyes slightly misty, "I am so lucky to have you, I hope you know that. I love you, Jeff," she said, reaching out and placing her hand on his forearm.

Clarke instinctively pulled her into his chest, burying his face in her hair and squeezing her tightly, "that makes two of us, Cally, love you back." He felt his own eyes clouding, clearing his throat and releasing her before breakfast got cold.

* * *

_**As always, love my readers and all your feedback! Hugs, kisses & cookies!**_


	33. Embers Which Remain

**Chapter 33: Embers That Remain**

_A/N: Callahan family centric chapter, but needed for future plot lines. Got a little stuck, my plot bunny went hopping down a path and I had to chase him down, but back on track finally. Reviews will help me stay there! ;) A thanks to all my faithful fans and y'all can thank Ms. Is for the gentle nudge for this update. I hope it helps you feel better! _

* * *

Clarke forced himself to poke through the kitchen cabinets, finding plates and cutlery, pulling them down and setting the table. "So a Sunday off together, has that ever happened?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yes, twice. When I got benched after my pulmonary edema and when I was suspended. Oh and when you were in jail, but that probably doesn't count," she said, wryly.

"I would say none of it counts. Anybody ever tell you that you work too much?" Clarke said, slightly bemused though there was something serious in his eyes.

Cailin deftly stacked the french toast, carrying it over to the table, replying, "only my mother every time I talk to her. The woman is about to have ten grandchildren, you would think she could lay off me settling down and popping out babies. But I suppose it could be worse, she actually had her brother pull strings with CPD to get me my shield here. Apparently they don't do lateral transfers. I could have ridden the pine at HQ easy. Of course then I wouldn't have to deal with Belden. Which is why I usually go in on weekends I'm not on-call to do my paperwork, because god knows he would never show his naked mole rat face there on a weekend unless Brass told him to."

Clarke wasn't sure which thread to pick up in her statement. She constantly surprised him, opening the valve a little more here and there on what was happening behind the scenes in her life. He couldn't protest this way of being, he was a private enough person; hell he all but shoved Hermann away when the other man tried to hug him. But of course he dived right into, "do you even want kids?" Yep, things_ were_ always awkward with him.

Her eyes grew wider before she used her training to make her face completely blank. Sitting down, she smoothed a paper towel over her lap and took a drink of coffee before calmly stating, "I'm the only girl in a good Irish-Catholic family, I always assumed I would, one day." Internally she was wondering how their morning conversation had just jumped the track, wondering if the topic of having kids would send Jeff running for the door. He was married, for twelve years, after all, and hadn't spawned; it was possible he didn't want children. Crap. Just when things seemed near perfect, she had to go and bring up super serious subjects. That was it, she was never talking to her mother again.

Clarke saw her eyes grow big for a fraction of a second. His own heart sped up as her pupils dilated. What if she didn't want children? She was a cop who saw the worst side of humanity on a daily basis. She had been married and seen the potential father of her children gunned down in front of her, what if that had put her off procreation? Why had he picked that as the question to ask? Couldn't he have jumped on her boss being a jerk or even circled back to Jones' suicide; even that would have been a more cheery conversation than thIs one. And if she didn't want children, did that change how he felt about her? Even though it was definitely something he had always yearned for. It was the one regret that wasn't truly a regret with Lisa, knowing what a disaster children would have been for them. He hoped his sigh of relief wasn't audible when Cally finally spoke. Until he realized it wasn't a definitive answer. Don't push it, Clarke, he warned himself. His mouth betrayed his head as he heard himself say, "one days are all well and good, but we still can't see the top of the hourglass, Cal; we don't know how much sand we got left."

She gave a half-nod, working her jaw before taking a piece of bacon and dragging it through the syrup for her french toast. Giving him a look before saying, "all very true, and wise, Jeff. But all way too deep before I've finished my coffee. Can't we just argue about who gets the sports section of the newspaper first?"

He appreciated her rescue, finding the irony in her often doing the emotional rescuing in their relationship. "It's all yours, I always start with the comics," he replied, giving her a grateful smile.

* * *

They were sprawled on the couch later, the windows open, letting in spring air finally, digesting and reading the paper.

"Ugh, I take back complaining about sitting at the courthouse all week. 18 shot this weekend alone, tomorrow is going to be a media circus for sure. Which will totally put Belden in an even better mood," Cailin said, tossing the front section of the paper aside. "I get why you start with the comics," she said with a sigh, sitting up and rubbing at her temples. "I'm not kicking you out, cowboy, but I need to make a call and see if I'm heading over to The Clare or not. The earlier I can get there in the day the better. Which, as you pointed out, doesn't exactly happen that often with my work schedule."

Clarke studied her, she wasn't being self-deprecating; she was very matter of fact about the subject of her father's ailing health. Yes, he knew she felt some guilt over the Callahan patriarch's decline; or more so, not being around to intervene. He also knew from conversations with Matthew Casey that there was nothing Cally could have done even if she had been back in Chicago earlier; Connor Callahan, Sr. being of traditional, stubborn, CFD stock. "May I come with you?" He realized how formal his question sounded, but his old-fashioned tendencies and military background took over. If any such occasion called for formality, this one did.

Cal blinked, surprised. Though when she took a second to think about it, she realized she shouldn't have been shocked at all. Jeff wanting to accompany her was exactly in-character for him, part of why she was attracted to him; he was a stand-up, old-fashioned, man's man kind of guy. "I would really like that. I just have to call to make sure anyone should visit. Oh, and I can't promise that one of my brothers won't show their ugly mug while we're there. Not a set-up, I promise."

"I know you better than that, Cally. Though given what Casey has told me about your family, I'm sort of shocked I haven't been summoned to Mount Greenwood," he teased. He neglected to inform her of Colin Callahan's impromptu visit to 102, despite it being on the opposite end of the city from his assigned house.

She smiled, thinking about how she had struggled to bring up him coming to dinner, not wanting to put pressure on him or their relationship. Of course he brought it up first _and_ seemed fine with it. She let out a laugh, trying to seem casual. "I bought you some time by visiting while you were off gallivanting in California. It's coming though, don't you worry. If we play our cards right, though, we can convince Matt and Gabby to come with us and take some of the spotlight from you. Despite being the only girl, hand to god, my mother still manages to love Matty more."

"I highly doubt that, Cal, but sounds like a plan. Go, check in, I'll be here, hanging out with Snoopy and ignoring the bad news of the world." Clarke smiled at her, thinking he was actually looking forward to standing toe to toe with the Callahan clan.

* * *

"You sure about this?" she asked as they pulled up in front of the valet at the well-appointed and overpriced tower that her father now called home. She nearly passed out when she heard how much it cost each month for his care; but he had great benefits from the city and the equity from the house her parents had lived in for over 40 years. Her mother had been insistent about her husband being in a Catholic care facility, and that made the choice practically nonexistent. Still, Cailin couldn't help but wonder about the longterm viability of such a pricey facility for a man who most days didn't even know what planet he was on.

"About leaving my car with the valet? It's a Ford, Callahan, I think it will be fine," Clarke replied, squeezing her hand for good measure, trying to take the edge off. "If I need to step out, I will. Otherwise, you are stuck with me too, Cally."

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, squeezing his hand back. "I don't deserve you," she said with a smile, hopping out as the porter opened her door for her.

"I'm less of a fan of people stealing my job, though," he said in her ear as he wrapped his arm around her waist, giving the porter the eye for leering at her.

"Simmer down, cowboy," she said, slipper her own arm around his waist, soaking in his comfort.

Cailin knocked on the door left ajar to her father's room after having confirmed with the nursing staff it was a 'good day'. She pushed the door open after her father called for them to come in.

"Kitten!" he remarked, a smile growing on his face.

Clarke, standing behind Cal, felt her stiffen before taking a breath and relaxing. "Hey, Pops, how you doing?" she said, striding into the room with a sunny smile, shaking the tin of candy he liked so much; trying to force down her feelings about the nickname after Nansenko had adopted it.

"Better than this one here, look how old he looks," Connor Callahan said, pointing to the host on the news program he was watching. Cailin swallowed unsure of what to say, until she caught the smile on her father's eyes. "I know, I look as bad as that old coot. Now, come and give your old man a hug and a peck." He tapped on his wrinkled cheek, his blue eyes brightening as Cailin complied. "You know, you weren't bigger that these two hands when you came home from the hospital, sweet girl and now look at you," he said, giving his youngest a pat on her cheek. It was then he noticed Clarke standing in the doorway. "It's not time for my meds, I know, I have an alarm clock."

"He's not-" Cailin paused, "he's with me, Pops."

Two snow-white eyebrows raised, before surveying the figure in the door carefully. "A jarhead, huh?"

"Jeff Clarke, sir. 1st battalion, eighth Marines," Clarke said, walking in and putting his hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, Deputy Commissioner."

Connie let out a laugh, "haven't been called that for some time now. USMC and CFD, huh? Know who I'm calling if I'm in a pickle." He gestured, "sit, both of you, while I still remember who we all are."

The trio sat, though Cailin mostly observed as her father and Clarke traded war stories, both from actual war and work; though her father did sprinkle in a few tales of the trouble she and Matt had gotten into growing up. They stayed long enough that lunch and several rounds of medication were delivered to Connie's room. She looked at the clock, knowing they were on borrowed time.

Clarke had glanced at Cally throughout the visit, noticed the change in her demeanor as she caught sight of the time. He knew enough about head trauma and dementia to know the later the day got, the more unstable the person. He pulled out his phone, faking a phone call. "Sorry, I need to take this. I'll step out and let you two visit. It was a pleasure meeting you, sir."

Connie struggled to pull himself to his feet, his form nearly as tall as Clarke's. He steadied himself on the arm of his recliner with one hand, stretching the other out. "Same here, young man, I was beginning to think they didn't make any good soldiers anymore. Good to know I was wrong." He gave Clarke a smile, still pumping his hand. With a small wink he said, "bet you were waiting for me to give you a warning, but if there is one thing I know about my girl, it's that she can take care of herself."

Clarke took his leave, giving Cal a look, motioning that he wouldn't be far. Cailin nodded, helping her father to sit back down. They talked for a few more minutes, the highlight for Cailin being when her father said he was happy for her and proud of her. Cailin knew time had ticked away as her father said, "that fella, the one joining the Marines, is he in Colin or Coleman's class?"

She felt a lump form in her throat; happy she had gotten to introduce Jeff to him while his faculties were intact, sad that the window had already closed. "Neither, Daddy. I've got to go, but why don't you watch this, isn't it one of your favorites?" she said, turning on an old John Wayne movie.

"Sure is, kitten," he said, tugging on her arm and pulling her down, "always busy with something aren't you? Study hard, make me proud," he said, pulling her into a hug and kissing her on top of her head.

Cailin tried to surreptitiously wipe the tears away as she stepped out into the common room before looking around for Clarke, but he was already there, pulling her to him. "I'm sorry, Jeff, I just needed to visit," she said, biting back tears, refusing to let them fall. She pulled back out of his arms.

"Sorry for what, Cal? Your dad is a great guy, I'm glad I met him and not just because I have even more on Casey," Clarke remarked with a smile, knowing how bittersweet today must have been, every visit really. He remembered his own difficult visits, as the cancer stole more and more of his mother each time he saw her and she had remained lucid until the very end. He cleared his throat, "now while your breakfast was amazing, I know for a fact you haven't eaten since then and seeing as we still have a few hours off together, how about we grab some dinner?"

"That would be great, but can we finally just grab take-out from the Vietnamese place by you? I don't think I'm up for people other than you tonight," Cailin admitted, her energy flagging and her anxieties increasing.

"Perfect," he said, telling the absolute truth.


	34. Old Flame

**Chapter 34: Old Flames**

_Y'all are too awesome and reading too fast, I can't keep up. And I am *officially* at more reviews on this story than HDYGG, and darn close to as many views as my first ever fan fiction, NOLA Rising (which is ancient in ff years)! This is all a little overwhelming. I promise I won't abandon this or you amazing people even after starting my new job. I might just have to slow a little. Patience! _

* * *

"I gotta go, Jeff," Cailin protested, even though she didn't want to leave the arms currently trapping her from above. "I need a shower and clean clothes and all the coffee in the world before facing another week with Belden."

"This would be a lot easier if you just kept some clothes here," Clarke said, staring down at her, thinking their pre-dawn exercise had been far more enjoyable than jogging, though he wasn't sure one round was entirely equal. He was also thinking that what he really meant was life would be a lot easier if they just lived together, but after the awkward 'do you want kids' conversation from yesterday, he wasn't pushing his luck.

She wiggled out from underneath him, "if I kept clothing here and in my locker, I wouldn't have anything left at Gabby's. Besides, shouldn't you be getting ready to drive up to Rogers Park?" She gave him a pointed look while trying to find her underwear, knowing his eyes were following her as she searched. "If you stop gawking and go make coffee, I might be convinced to stay for a cup," she teased.

"Busted," he smirked, slipping out of bed to comply.

"Thanks again for yesterday, babe," Cailin said, leaning against the countertop, drinking her coffee; afraid if she didn't stay standing, they would quickly end up horizontal and running late.

Clarke looked up from the breakfast bar still trying to figure out why she wouldn't sit down. "It really was my pleasure. Just let me know when we're making the trek down to Mount Greenwood, I'll put it on my calendar."

"Your calendar, huh? I feel honored," she quipped, finishing her coffee and putting the mug in the dishwasher before moving over to give him a kiss. "Stay safe out there, cowboy."

"As long as you watch your six too, Callahan," he said, his hands encircling her as he deepened the kiss.

"This is why I was standing several feet away from you," she protested with a frustrated groan.

"Fine, fine, I'll stop," he said, dropping his hands. "Can you grab breakfast before your shift tomorrow?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound needy.

"Maybe, if I don't catch a case. But I would prefer dinner so you can get sleep first. For all the bitching you do about me getting sleep..."

"Because I get at least 48 hours off at a time, Cally," Clarke protested.

"Except you kept taking extra shifts," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest, working her jaw.

Clarke stared back at her, his own jaw clenching, "nobody is on me about furlough, though." He didn't like the glint in her eyes as she drew in a breath, sensing a storm was about to unleash. He uncrossed his arms and put up his palms, saying softly, "Cal, I don't want to argue, not before we both need our head in the game 110%. You said something to me a few days ago about burning the candle at both ends and maybe I was, for a few days. I'm pretty sure you have been for a few years. I love you and I don't want to see you burn out, that's all. So dinner tomorrow, if you don't catch a case?"

She had been about to unload on him, about the pot calling the kettle black; about him knowing she was a cop and continued to feel like she had to prove herself like she was still a damn boot, about how he knew she had crazy hours the entire time he and known her and who knows what else. But of course he knew that, and he looked at her with those damn puppy dog eyes, the color of the sea, and the next thing she knew her anger deflated like a day old balloon. She rolled her eyes, "well, when you put it like that." She moved in for another kiss saying, "dinner, if I can. See you around, Clarke." Flashing him a broad smile, saying "and I love you too," as she made her way out of his place and back to hers, and reality.

* * *

As she expected after the headlines in the paper, Brass was on them to get crimes solved. Cailin was pretty sure she didn't sit for two solid days except for the time spent driving or in interrogation. Needless to say she had to text Clarke with _Sorry, cowboy, dinner is from a vending machine tonight. Call you when free. xo_

Clarke read the text and shook his head. He had expected it all day, especially with all the headlines announcing the uptick in crime, pushing the murder rate higher than an other major city. That didn't change the fact that he knew she worked too much and got zero respect from her boss, even though she had the collars to prove her worth and then some. The least he could do was make sure she was eating real food.

He entered the 2-1; trying to not think about the last time he had been there, turning in Lisa for killing Hayes. He shook it off, going up to the bored looking desk sergeant; not the usual gatekeeper, asking to see Cailin. "And what is this about?" he questioned, looking at Clarke suspiciously.

"Dinner, just brining her dinner," Clarke replied, holding it up.

"Is she expecting you?" the Sergeant pressed, "because this is a police precinct and we-"

"Down, Turk, he's safe, I'll vouch for him," came a feminine but raspy voice from behind Clarke. Clarke turned to see Detective Erin Lindsay standing there, rolling her eyes, with none other than a smirking Kelly Severide next to her. "See you later," Lindsay said, giving Severide a kiss.

Clarke just cocked an eyebrow to which Severide pointed and said, "just because you ain't on my squad anymore."

"Didn't see anything, not saying anything. Just trying to make sure Cally gets real food," he said, shaking his head.

"Catch you later, Clarke, good to see you taking care of our girl," he said with a wink, before giving the brunette detective one more kiss and walking out of the precinct.

Detective Lindsay smiled at him, "don't suppose you brought enough for the whole class, huh?" she asked, gesturing at the bag. She laughed at his look of concern, "I'm just messing with you. Callahan's pen is this way, luckily her jerk boss cut out already."

"He is a piece of work, isn't he?" Clarke said, feeling his anger rising.

"I work for Voight and still think Belden is an asshole, that should tell you something. I've tried to talk to Hank about getting her to come upstairs; but he's, well particular doesn't quite begin to cover it. Plus, I'm not sure Cally would even want in the unit. Keeps talking about needing boundaries and rules," Lindsay paused, "and here we are." She looked around the pen, a couple of detectives at their desks, either on the phone or deep in paperwork, Cailin nowhere to be seen. Upon seeing Lindsay one of the detectives pointed at one of the interview rooms. "You ever see her work?" Lindsay asked with a mischievous look on her face. Clarke just shook his head. "Well, here's your chance. Just don't tell anyone." She led them into the enjoying room, turning on the speaker.

Cailin was in the room, sitting next to, not across from the person she was questioning. A young woman aged quickly by obvious years of hard living. Clarke could tell by the tightness in her jaw, the slight wrinkle in her temple that Cal was infuriated; however the rest of her expression was open, empathetic.

"It must have seemed so overwhelming for you, Vivi. Your man walks out on you after he promised to take care of the both of you. Can't do your job because you have to watch this baby, who just keeps crying and crying and needs you for everything. Not being able to remember the last time you slept, or showered, all that crying; and you are trying to be a good mom, haven't scored in weeks." Vivi nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Cal pulled a box of tissues across the table, "just let it out," she said, softly, comforting; though the glint in her eye spoke very different words. "And then your old flame Roy comes over and…" she trailed off, waiting for the younger woman to compose herself enough to speak.

"And I just thought maybe if I could get the baby to stop crying for just a little bit, maybe Roy would want to, you know, and I could get some money and get some formula and then it wouldn't matter if I used, because the baby wouldn't get none of that junk. It was like you said, I was trying to be a good moms."

"But the baby wouldn't stop crying, would he, Vivi?" Cailin pressed, lightly placing her hand on the other woman's forearm, leaning slightly towards her, keeping intense eye-contact. Vivi shook her head almost violently. "How did you get him to be quiet, Vi?" her voice was a near whisper, like a conspiratorial secret between teenage girls.

"I put him in the cooler we use for the beach, but I made sure he had a bottle and his blanket and was warm. He liked it, he smiled at me." The woman got a far away look in her eyes. "And after I closed the lid, he stopped crying, like magic. He liked it in there, I didn't know it would kill him!"

"And when you and Roy found him later…" Cailin said, sliding a folder towards them, "which one of you put the dumbbells in the cooler before duct taping it shut and dumping it in the river, Vi? Whose idea was that?" It was only now then she let the fury creep into her voice, though somehow in keeping it contained, she seemed all the more terrifying. Both Clarke and Lindsay watched as Vivi drew back from the photographs Cailin was placing one by one in front of her as she spoke.

"Ro-Roy's," Vivi choked out, looking Cailin straight in the face before saying, completely serious, "I wanted to bury him in the backyard next to Spot."

Both observers saw Cailin's patience stretched too far, snapping like an elastic. Lindsay was in the room in a second, her hand clamping down on Cailin's shoulder before she could strangle the woman next to her. "Thanks, Detective, I've got it from here. And someone from FD is here to see you," she said, gesturing with her head.

Cailin looked at her curiously, wondering why Erin was down observing her in the first place and wondering who from FD was there to see her. She felt instant relief at who it was, trying to not launch herself into Clarke's embrace. "Jeff," she breathed, forcing herself to take a step back instead of forwards, "is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine on my end, Cal, but that? That is what you deal with everyday?" Clarke knew being a cop was no cakewalk, but seeing her in action gave him a glimpse behind the curtain he wasn't sure he wanted.

Cailin shrugged, "it isn't always dead babies, thank god. Half the time the vics are just as bad as the skels." She shook it off. "So why are you here?"

"Just because you had to cancel going out to dinner doesn't mean you should eat from a vending machine," he remarked, holding up the bag from a local Italian joint he knew she liked.

"My hero," she said, with a grin, catching sight of the uniform Erin had called to haul Vivi down to booking. "Let's go this way so I am not tempted to take another run at that POS," she said, leading them toward a small break room.

"Wouldn't want you suspended again, Callahan," Clarke teased, following after her, even while thinking it might not be such a bad thing if it got her some time off.

* * *

Cailin entered the bar, feeling odd that it wasn't Molly's. She wasn't sure why Matt had asked her to meet him here, though she figured it must have something to do with Gabby since he was willing to come to a cop bar with the high chance that Voight would be there. She had heard all about the drama involving Voight and Matt and Hallie. That was probably part of the reason she wasn't interested in IU; unsure if she could work under someone who tried to have her best friend framed or possibly killed; no matter how good the father's intentions were. She looked around, making sure he wasn't there and trying to spot Matt, who was half-hidden in a booth.

"Look at you, willing to hang out with us pigs," she teased, sliding across from him.

"I know, I have the most intense craving for bacon now," Matt shot back with a smile, "thanks for meeting me."

Cailin patted his hand, "for you, anytime. So what's up, friend?" She looked at him, pouring a pint from the pitcher he had waiting.

Matt fiddled with his coaster, folding it into some abstract origami. "You know how I was telling you that I had Shay come ring shopping with me?" Cailin nodded, sipping at her beer, letting her friend come out with things at his own pace. "I was thinking I should really ask Gabby's father's permission. I mean wouldn't you want Clarke to do that?"

Cal sputtered, choking on her beer. "Whoa, slow up, sir," she said, after hacking up a lung and reaching for a handful of napkins. "First off, recall I got married and my parents didn't even know about it, let alone give their permission. However, back to you and Gabby," she said, giving him a pointed look, "yeah, probably an important thing in her family's culture."

"The thing is they are in the DR for a few more months still, taking care of her grandmother."

She tilted her head, "and you don't want to wait that long." She forced herself for it to sound like a statement, not a question. She didn't think Matt was rushing, but she didn't want Gabby caught off guard either. Hadn't they just almost called off their apartment hunt? Not to mention Gabby was still struggling with being able to re-take her exam and the Jones thing and…this is why she hated being friends with both sides of this relationship; especially when she hadn't talked to Gabby in forever.

"I don't want to have to, no," he said, searching his friends' face for more guidance. He was hoping for some insider information, Shay hadn't given him any; plus he valued Cally's opinion more than anyone else in the entire world. Or he at least he did before getting with Gabby.

"So ask Antonio instead," she replied, matter of fact.

It seemed so simple and obvious when Cal said it, Matt couldn't figure out why he hadn't thought of it. "I don't know why I didn't think of that," he said, refilling his beer, a weight lifted from his shoulders.

"Because you gotta keep me around for something, Matty."

He clinked his glass against hers, "that I do, Callahan. Now you want to talk about why you almost died at me mentioning Clarke and marriage in the same sentence?"

Cailin rolled her eyes, "I did not almost die. And Jeff and I haven't been together together for very long."

Matt stuck his tongue into his cheek. "Uh-huh, but you two have been like this," he twisted his fingers around each other, "since the moment you first laid eyes on each other. You really never think about getting married again?"

"When Hallie died, could you imagine…" she gestured.

Matt cleared his throat, "no, I couldn't but Jimmy has been gone for almost two years, Cally! And from what you've told me about him, he wouldn't want you to stop living just because he did. Weren't you the one pushing second chances on me?"

"And I am taking a second chance, Matthew. Just stop shoving me down the aisle, would you? You are as bad as my mother." She leveled a glare at him that almost set the booth on fire.

Her glare warned him to not take it any further, but he couldn't help but say, "sometimes you just have to let go, Cal."

* * *

After a text from Matt informing her that things had gone well with Antonio and still needing to thank Erin Lindsay for pulling her feet out of the fire with Vivi, Cailin took the time to head up to IU.

"You lost?" Voight asked as soon as she stepped foot upstairs.

She leveled a glare at him, "considering Belden just yelled at me to stay up here, I don't need shit from you too. Respectfully, sir," she tacked on hastily. He gave her the slightest of smirks. It was enough to make her forge ahead with, "less respectfully, I think Commander Perry is out of his god damned mind for wanting to use Pulpo and, head's up, Perry's making my brass-kissing boss his handler." Voight just cocked an eyebrow before turning and striding to his office, slamming the door behind him.

"You thought Belden didn't like you before," Antonio remarked from his desk.

Cailin shrugged, "what do I have to lose at this point? My numbers are good enough that he can't kick me back to uniform, so it's either a transfer or moving over to HQ." She looked over at Erin sitting at her desk, "speaking of nothing to lose, thanks for keeping me in the lines with Vivi."

Erin made a 'no big deal' gesture. "It's fine, I've got practice with all of them. Besides, dead babies are the worst and she was a real piece of work. I just didn't want your boy witnessing a suspect getting taken out, might end up sticky for him." Cailin let out a slight snort but didn't say anything. "Thank you for sharing dinner, it's nice to have something better than a heart-attack from a sack every once in a while. These guys think the major food groups are fat, grease and fried cheese."

"Please, Erin, I saw you hoover half a box of donuts for breakfast," Antonio teased.

"Enough out of you, stop busting up my girl time," she shot back.

"Just go out for margaritas or wine like my sister," he volleyed.

Cailin observed, jealous of how congenial the mood was up here compared to VC, where everyone kept their head down and out of each other's way. It had been nice when she first got here, how she had functioned in the NYPD after returning to work. But now that things had changed, reconnecting with Matt, making friends from 51, getting together with Jeff; she found she wanted a work family like they all had. No. She couldn't even consider it. First off, Voight always stared at her like he thought she was a rat and secondly, given her recent near-attack on Vivi, she didn't need those flames of anger stoked in a unit that amounted to the wild, wild, west.

"Speaking of your sister," Cal picked up, walking over to Antonio's desk with raised eyebrows. "Heard you had a chat with Matty."

Antonio nodded, crossing his arms over his chest before replying with, "heard I have you to thank for him coming to me."

She studied him carefully, realizing he was putting on the tough big brother act. She rolled her eyes and pulled out the chair next to his desk, sitting on it backwards. "Pu-lease, Dawson. I've seen that look get shot at people my entire life. Did you forget I have five older brothers? You're happy for them."

He scowled at being called out, to which Erin laughed, and then the rest joined in, making his scowl deepen.

"Didn't meant to ruin your street cred," Cailin said, biting back her own laugh.

"I am happy for them, as long as he treats her right. Marrying Laura was the best thing to ever happen to me. Casey is a good guy, which I've heard your family has more than a little to do with." Cailin flushed until Antonio added, "so if he messes up and hurts my sister, it is on you, Callahan," he mock glared.

She put up her palms, "no pressure. Anyway, just wanted to see if he chickened out or not and thank Erin. I gotta get back downstairs before Belden assigns my desk to someone else."


	35. Smoked Out

**Chapter 35: Smoked Out**

_A/N: *taps mic* is this thing on? Maybe y'all have finally tired of me. Too bad, I've not tired of this and seeing as I just finished chapter 40, you get another update. Lots of stuff happening ahead. Oh the drama. And I haven't even gotten to the *season ender spoiler of CFD* yet!_

* * *

Clarke got in his car after shift in Rogers Park, yawning. He was tired, but his need to see Cal trumped his need for sleep. Between her working and Casey bogarting her on Wednesday night, he hadn't done more than catch a quick call or two with her since he brought her food at the precinct. Seeing her work was eye-opening. Yes, he knew he ran into burning buildings for a living, however the emotional risk she took everyday on top of getting shot at seemed much bigger to him.

He knew the near argument they had actually needed to happen; that she needed to stop disappearing into her work as much as she did. Clarke could understand why she did so after Jimmy died, after finally getting clearance to go back to work. He had done the same thing every time he came back from the Middle East. Fires seemed easier to handle than civilian life and definitely easier than dealing with his cheating ex. Fighting those flames, putting them out, making the saves; it was the only time he felt in control, felt some power. But eventually, he always realized that it wasn't living, picking up all those relief shifts; that he was simply putting the real world on hold. Clarke wanted to be Cal's safety net, her respite, her shelter; not her job.

_Breakfast, please? Can sleep later, need you more. xo JC_

Cailin read the text as she was getting ready for work. She was scheduled to post at 8, but she had clocked 56 hours this week as it was; 16 more added to her furlough, 16 more she wasn't getting paid for. Struck with another bit of envy for the IU, getting to set more of their own hours; it well-known in the precinct that if they weren't running a case their briefings didn't happen until 9 or 10. No wonder Erin's hair always looked so fabulous, she thought with a sigh, pulling hers back into a ponytail. She debated until finally texting back _Gonna get bitched at anyway, may as well be for something good. I'll cook, see you here, xoxo C2_

Cailin thanked whatever gods had ensured she actually had managed to grocery shop and could make good on her promise, breakfast ready just as Clarke knocked on the door. She opened it with a happy smile, pulling him in with a hug and kiss; inhaling his scent, feeling the endorphins flood her body, comfort settling over her like a security blanket. "Good morning," she breathed as she broke off this kiss and released him.

"Better now," he smiled at her, wishing she wasn't already dressed for work, but still happily following her to the kitchen.

"Sorry it isn't breakfast in bed, cowboy," she said, plating the food and setting it on the table in front of him.

He caught her wrist and pulled her down on his lap, nuzzling her neck and saying, "are you sure it can't? How many hours have you clocked this week?" He was hoping to catch her slightly off-guard, if such a thing was possible.

"I mean, the usual," she said, trying to pull away, but Clarke kept her trapped, giving her a look. "56," she finally admitted, adverting her gaze.

He let out a growl, angry more at Belden and CPD, than Cally; he was just frustrated with her. "Cailin," he said softly, cupping her face and making her look at him. She didn't respond. He dropped his hands, shaking his head, but still keeping an arm wrapped around her so she couldn't slide off his lap. "Remember when you made me call Kelly to tell him I was transferring?" She nodded. "Turn about is fair play, babe," he smirked, jerking his head toward her phone on the counter. "Call Belden and tell him you taking the day. You and I both know it isn't like you are getting overtime."

She scowled at him, frustrated with herself. Why was she being so stubborn? Every week she got at least three emails and a phone call from Admin telling her to take furlough, reminding her that the budget freeze meant she couldn't collect overtime, despite union rules, blah blah blah. Not to mention, it wasn't like she enjoyed being in the precinct when Belden was there. Sure, she was satisfied out in the field or in interview, but the reception in the pen was chilly at best. "Jeff, I am a cop, this is my job, it doesn't have normal hours."

He moved his arm, telling by her expression she was feeling trapped on his lap and by the discussion. She jumped immediately off, but didn't move from beside the chair.

"I know, Cal, but part of being promoted to detective, having years of experience and great stats is that you can have closer to normal hours than you choose to keep." He stressed the word choose, calling her out, hopefully without getting her hackles up.

Cailin let out a sigh, pulling a chair next to him and slumping in it, wearily. "I know you are right, but, it's just after Jimmy and not having the job after; when I finally got back to it, it was the only time I caught a break, wasn't replaying that movie. I know it sounds ridiculous, being around so much violence and death being the only time I found any peace; but that's the truth. I wanted coming back home to give me that peace without working all the time, except it didn't and then dealing with my family and everything…" she shrugged, before continuing, putting her head in her hand, "plus, I just kept thinking if I kept at it, worked harder, longer, better than everyone else in VC, maybe Belden would stop being such a jerk."

Clarke wanted her back in his lap, not to force a conversation this time, but to get her to stop looking so dejected. "Except he hasn't, Cally, he isn't going to. Why are you running yourself ragged for an asshole?" He took a breath, debating before finally asking what he wanted to, "don't I bring you peace?"

Her head shot up, "of course, Jeff, do you really have to ask that?"

"Yeah, when you keep working dead on your feet, I guess I do," he said, trying to keep his anger down and out of his voice.

Anger and sadness warred with each other, both bringing tears to her eyes as she jumped to her feet. "Damn it, I thought you knew me better than anyone! What part of I can't sleep without you next to me or risking my badge to get you out of jail or willing to do anything for you makes you think you don't bring me peace? I didn't think I would ever be whole again, I swore to never love anybody again; and then you, Jeff Clarke, had to come along with your mind-reading and understanding me and, yes, peace-giving comfort and change everything for me!"

He reached out to grab at her arm, but she tore herself out of his grip, crushing him slightly until she stomped over to the counter and hit a couple of keys barking, "I'm taking a day. So write me up, Belden, I've got enough collars, my file can handle it. Fine, you don't have to like it, I don't like you. Then we're even." She slammed the phone down on the counter and glared at Clarke. "Happy now?"

He couldn't help but laugh, "yeah, kinda. Now can we eat?"

* * *

"Did Shay tell you about Devon showing back up?" Clarke said as they jogged through the park late that afternoon after he had caught some shut-eye.

"Devon that stole all their crap Devon? Did she kick her ass?" Cailin replied, thinking she felt a little like she was playing hooky.

Clarke let out a laugh, but shook his head. "Nah, apparently she wants to make things right."

"Good luck with that," Cailin retorted, slowing up her pace a bit. Clarke just smirked at her, slowing his pace as well. They jogged in silence for a bit before she asked, "so Leslie called you?"

He kept completely straight-faced as he said, "yep. You jealous?"

"No. Maybe. A little," she admitted. "If it is possible, I am ever worse at female friendships than dating; and when Gabby didn't call me back after the Jones thing and now Shay is calling you…" she trailed off before pushing herself to job ahead.

Clarke easily caught up to her, moving closer but still keeping a distance. "She knew you were at work."

"So were you!"

"Cal, if I an answer at work, it is because I am sitting on my ass. Except when writing a report, waiting to get called into court or interviewing someone, how often can you say that?" She knew he had a point, but didn't want to admit it. She just made a face. "You can have all the girl time you want with Shay, I promise, though you do have to not be working for that to happen," he pointed out. "Plus, I think Severide is being weird with Devon coming back and she wanted some insight."

"It's fine, I know they are your friends, no, your family, too, Jeff. I just don't want them, or you, to think I wouldn't drop everything in a second if you guys needed me."

"They know that, I know that. But you can make sure of that tonight when we see them all at Molly's, seeing as you aren't working," he ended with a sly grin before picking up his pace. Cailin tried and failed to keep up, her leg cramping enough that she stepped off the path, her chest heaving. "Don't tell me you can't keep up, Callahan," Clarke teased, doubling back to check on her.

"I am pretty sure when it comes to athletic pursuits, I will never be able to keep up with you, cowboy," she replied after stretching and catching her breath,

He caught her around the waist, giving her a smoldering look, "I wouldn't say all athletic pursuits. Speaking of which, since we are going to have to shower before Molly's anyway, how about we head back?"

* * *

The pair arrived at Molly's, where Gabby working behind the bar with Shay sitting on a stool in front of her looking slightly dejected.

"Once again, I feel completely underdressed around both of you," Cailin remarked as they walked up.

"Funny, I was going to say you were overdressed for my-" Clarke started to whisper in her ear, stopping when she slugged him and turned bright red. "Oof," he winced.

"Watch it, cowboy," she said with a mock glare, accepting the stool he pulled out for her and watching as he ordered drinks for them, a slightly downcast expression on his face.

"Sorry, babe," he replied with a wink, giving her a kiss as he handed her glass, sitting on the stool next to her and absently throwing his arm on the back of the chair behind her.

"Oh god, you two are cute. Stop, it's disgusting," Shay pleaded.

"Is this better?" Cailin said, moving her stool away from Clarke.

Shay sighed, "no, that somehow is worse, because now I can practically see the bar tilting to put you two back closer together."

Cailin rolled her eyes while Clarke just smirked, drank his beer and made small talk with Gabby about her upcoming re-take of the firefighter's exam

"How come you don't bitch about Gabby and Matt?" Cally asked Shay.

"Because when he does bother to come, there is usually there a bar between them. Besides, I get Gabby to myself in the ambo all day, at least for a few more shifts." She let out an even bigger sigh, her face dropping even more.

"Yeah, so what are you going to do about that?"

Shay shrugged, trying to not show how bummed she was, but after that visit up to Austin she felt even worse. "It's going to suck, that's for sure. First that one has to get a promotion," she hitched her thumb at Clarke, "and now Gabs is going over with Sir Douche-a-Lot who doesn't think women are allowed out of the kitchen. Worse than Chief Jones, even."

Cailin nodded even though she had no idea what Shay was talking about. They really needed a girls' night soon.

"Hey wait, Gabby maybe you could-"

"Shay," Gabby interrupted, jerking her head toward the door and the slightly battered woman who just walked in.

"One word and I'll kick her ass," Gabby said.

Cailin nodded, "I can still arrest her."

"Down, all of you," Shay said, giving Clarke a look, "you too, Marine. In fact, take your lady over there so you aren't tempted to go Full Metal Jacket and she doesn't shoot anyone, would ya?"

Clarke and Cailin complied, moving to a table, but both watched the exchange between Shay and Devon closely.

"What's this about Gabby going to some super retro house?" Cailin asked as they watched Devon start pulling items out of a rucksack.

"I don't know, Shay didn't say anything about that," Clarke said, tightening his jaw as he narrowed his eyes in Devon's direction.

Cailin looked at him wryly. "You're kinda hot when you are being all over-protective. Especially when it isn't directed at me." He just slid his still narrowed eyes toward her and then back to the trio at the bar, shaking his head slightly as Devon made promises about getting the money back.

"I swear, I will hound her until the second the statute of limitations runs out to get them their money back," she hissed under her breath.

"Oh, I get it now," Clarke replied with a smirk, "right back at you on the over-protective thing."

She ignored him, shaking her empty glass, "I'm going to get a refill."

"You didn't bring your piece, right?"

"I am not going to shoot an unarmed person in Molly's. How often do you guys think I discharge my weapon?" Cailin asked, slightly flustered.

"I'm just teasing. Go, have some girl time," he replied, waving her off.

* * *

Devon, thankfully, retreated quickly enough after shoving the envelope at Shay and giving her sob story. Gabby and Cailin exchanged a look as Cally ordered another round.

"What?" Shay asked, briskly.

"Nothing," Cal quipped.

Gabby shrugged, "don't know what you are talking about, Leslie."

"Just as long as you two don't start riding my ass like Kelly is. I know he is still bummed about missing that kid, but come on."

Cailin wrinkled her brow slightly, she knew there had been a five-alarm beast at a boarding school; she also knew that it was smack dab in the middle of 51's coverage area. What she hadn't heard about was Kelly missing a kid in the search. Maybe she had worked too much. She realized she missed Clarke working at 51 probably as much as he did. She really needed to make more of an effort in maintaining her friendships and connections. Luckily, Gabby saw her expression and filled her in. On that and then some.

"Wait, Boden knocked-up the hot teacher? Are you serious?" she spit out, barely able to contain her shock. "Aren't they-"

"A little old?" Shay remarked at the same time Gabby said, "adorable."

"I was going to say, 'broken up', but we can go with your answers. I pick Shay's because it means I can tell my mother to chill the hell out about me having kids for the next ten or so years."

Shay looked at her curiously, "are you saying you aren't going to have a million kids, Callahan? Thought you were a good Irish-Catholic girl."

"Dear god, please tell me Clarke didn't tell you about that awkward conversation," Cailin said with a lowered voice, turning to look where Clarke had sat before realizing he was now across the bar with Hermann and a few other guys from 51, including a new face she couldn't help but surmise was the newest squad member.

"No, but I want to know all about it now. Spill," Shay demanded, Gabby nodding along.

Cailin flushed, her gaze traveling back to where Clarke stood, slightly on the periphery of the group, but still smiling and receiving a warm welcome. "It wasn't anything, like three lines about whether I wanted kids or not."

Gabby's eyes got wide as she asked, "do you, does he?"

She shrugged, "I mean, I always thought I would, I want to. But I don't know…" she trailed off, realizing other that Clarke warning her about one days, they hadn't really finished the conversation. "But back to the Chief and Donna, are they getting hitched?"

"Maybe it could be a double-" Shay started to say, her eyes going wide as she cut herself off. Cailin hid her smirk in her drink, letting out a snort as Shay covered with "make mine a double." Gabby looked at them both oddly, but complied with Shay's request, pouring an extra slug of vodka into a glass before topping it off with soda and a lime. "Imma go see if I can make things more awkward with Clarke," she said, taking her drink and leaving Gabby and Cally sitting at the bar.

* * *

"How are you doing, Gabs?" Cailin asked as they watched Shay forcibly hug Clarke.

Gabby wiped at an invisible spot on the bar and shrugged, "okay, I guess. I know you wanted to give me that letter, thanks for that. Sorry I fell off the face of the planet on you."

"Please, I've done it to you guys enough."

"Still, with Jones and worrying about my re-test and Matt's been a little weird lately. You don't know anything about that do you?" Gabby studied Cailin, wondering if Matt had at least opened up to his old friend, since he seemed to be avoiding talking to her over the past few days.

Cailin forced herself to not react, putting on a blank mask before quipping, "Matty's always been weird, how can you tell a difference?"

Gabby laughed, "good to know. He just seems distracted."

Cally shrugged, "maybe it's all the changes at 51?"

Gabby sighed, "maybe so. It's been a rough few weeks for us all. I'm sure it's nothing, but you'll let me know if it is something, right?" She hoped she didn't sound too pleading. She didn't want to place Cal in the middle, however it was nice to have insider information. Gabby looked like she wanted to say something more, but Hermann started harassing her about not getting their drinks fast enough because she was too busy 'chatting'.

Cailin shook her head, about to go over to the group when she realized Shay and Clarke had separated and where sitting over a table. She walked over, pausing when she realized they both became quiet. "Sorry to interrupt Shlarke time, just passing through," she said, stepping backward.

"Sit," Shay said, patting the stool beside her. "Help me finish some of this vodka."

"Yeah, nice recovery," Cailin snickered. Clarke raised his eyebrows wondering what had the two women dissolving into uncharacteristic giggles.

The two women exchanged a look, should they tell him? Not like he would tell anyone, plus being up on 25, he didn't see as much of the gang as before.

"Casey is popping the question at some point. Assuming he can ever figure out how to. I don't know why he doesn't like my ideas," Shay said, shaking her head, "who knows Gabby better?"

Cailin found herself studying Clarke's reaction across the table a little more carefully than she would ever admit. Part of her wondered if they were moving too fast, even if deep down she didn't really believe in such things. Not to mention Clarke's sand theory. But marriage? Given their histories? So why did she care so much about what his reaction was to the news about Matt proposing to Gabby.

Clarke nodded, "good for him." He could feel Cally's gaze on him, studying him as intently as she had since the first night he met her; though he could also tell she was trying to look like she wasn't studying him. He looked at Cailin, saying, "is your mother going to stroke out?"

Cailin rolled her eyes, "very funny, Jeff. My mother will live. Especially since you will definitely be with me when she finds out. Hopefully you'll measure up," she finished with a wink.

"Again with the cuteness, please stop or I will vomit on you," Shay said, though she had a smile on her face. "Look, I gotta go, have to get Otis his nerd helmet back and tell Kelly there is a new lesbro in town since he is being all moody. Thanks for the talk, Clarke, and you," she said, squeezing Cally's arm, "and I have a shopping date soon." She looked her up and down with a slight shake of her head and a sigh, "such beauty wasted on such boring clothing."

"Get home safe," Clarke and Cal remarked at the same time, getting puffed cheeks and a laugh out of Shay.

* * *

_A/N: So there is some timeline playing here, trying to get CF vs PD things to line up and I did gloss over the One Chicago Event entirely. Because too much drama!_


	36. Fat is in the Fire

**Chapter 36: Fat is in the Fire**

_A/N: I'm so mean. To them and y'all. Just so you know, they are still destined for a happy ending, I just like throwing stuff in their path._

* * *

They decided to call it a night shortly after, knowing Cailin was on-call all weekend, and with spring fever striking the miscreants of Chicago she would most certainly be called out.

Cal noticed Clarke's quietness on the way back, barely getting whose place they were going to out of him. She more or less steered them toward Gabby's, wanting to get to whatever scene she would be called to as quickly as possible. She wondered, not for the first time, how much easier it might be if her five boxes and two suitcases didn't find their way over to Clarke's. Except she couldn't get over it being his and Lisa's place. She must have made a noise, because she realized Clarke had stopped walking and was looking at her, his jaw tense and working.

"Sorry, just dreading being on-call. I actually like spending time with you," she covered with a smile. He didn't respond, except to keep walking. She could see the tension in the way he carried himself and was trying to figuring out what was going on without pressing him for information; but even their connection didn't allow her to read his clearly closed off mind.

They sat on the sofa, the end of a hockey game on more for noise than anything, Chinese food containers sitting on the coffee table barely picked at. Finally, Cal couldn't take it anymore; silence wasn't usually uncomfortable between them, but this was excruciating. "Out with it, Jeff," she said, curling up in the corner, hugging her knees and looking at him.

"Out with what?" he replied, not even turning his head from the television to look at her. He knew what she was getting at, part of the reason he had been so quiet on the walk back from Molly's was trying to sort through his feelings. He wasn't sure why he was filled with such an overwhelming sense of frustration and loss. And maybe a bit of envy?

She let out a huff of air, gesturing, "this, whatever is going on with you."

He gave a half-shrug, barely turning his head to look at her and say, "nothing is going on with me." Clarke knew he was lying to her, knew she would most likely call him on it; he felt ridiculous, not just for his feelings, but for not knowing the reason behind them.

"Something is definitely going on with you. Are you pissed because I am on-call? I played hooky today, I am not going to mess up someone else's weekend off because you think I work too much, it isn't fair. You work weekends," she protested.

"I'm fine," he said, facing back to the TV, his voice low and forcibly controlled. Damn it, there it was, just like he knew she would. He thought about trying to punt with the work thing, but she was right, it wasn't fair. Frankly, he was amazed, and happy, that she had called in at all. Yes, she did work too much, but she proved she was willing to work on it, to meet him halfway. Which probably meant he should do the same and try to sort through whatever was under his skin with her help...

She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, wondering what she had missed, trying to figure out if she had contributed to his mood. Had he overheard the conversation about kids? Was he trying to figure out how to breakup with her? Maybe, except he couldn't have overheard, he was over by Hermann and...oh. "Is this about the new guy?"

"Newhouse," Clarke snapped. Crap. Newhouse. Of course she read him better than he could read himself. Or was willing to get to the heart of the matter he was hiding from. Being Lieutenant was great for his career. It wasn't nearly as great for his psyche, though. Yes, he was grateful to have Cally, to still see everyone at Molly's, to have Shay call him when she needed a lifeline, but it wasn't the same. Not to mention trekking up to Rogers Park and back while trying to fit in time to see Cal, he could see it getting old quick. And that was with things staying the status quo.

"What about the 102? I thought it was nice up there," Cally replied, leaning toward him, stopping short of reaching out and touching him; it was clear he was putting his walls up.

Clarke let out a growl, "the new guy's name is Newhouse."

Cailin couldn't help it, she let out a laugh. "Seriously?" He glared at her. "Sorry, you have to admit it is kinda funny, Jeff." His glare made her bite back her laughter. "Are you ticked about Newhouse? Squad had to fill that spot, you know that."

"I said I was fine, Cal, stop pushing. You of all people should know better," Clarke replied, grabbing the remote and flipping rapidly through the channels. He knew he wasn't playing fair, but she had cut right to the quick. In a way he couldn't deal with now and he had to shut her down.

She paused, she did know; how the more people pushed, the more the anger and anxiety rose, the more you just shut down. But she couldn't stop herself, unable to let there be a wall between him. She sighed before saying, "they aren't replacing you, Jeff, you're still part of the 51 family. Look at Shay, who did she call?"

"Only because Severide was being jerk," he muttered.

"I'm not going to argue about something so ridiculous, Jeff, and I'm not pushing anymore. You're right, I do know better. I just wanted to point out that I also know you, and I know something is bugging you. I thought being in a relationship meant being there for each other, but as I said, I'm bad at this!" She felt her own hackles rising, angry and frustrated at him being angry and frustrated. Or maybe more so because he wasn't opening up to her when she had been so vulnerable with him. She felt her own rage start to build, buzzing in her head like a live wire; could see the storm in his eyes and knew the situation needed shutting down.

Cailin settled her face into a stoney mask, curling back into the corner of the sofa again, her arms crossed over her chest. "You should go."

Her tone left no room for argument, enough so that he looked at her slightly shocked.

"What? I, of all people, know sometimes you just need to be alone. You don't want to open up, I don't want to keep pushing." She knew she was being harsh, but she also knew if she didn't draw this line in the sand, they both might say things they regretted. It had happened with more than once Jimmy and that was without two people struggling with PTSD.

Clarke studied her, wrinkling his nose and working his jaw; looking at her carefully. He hadn't expected her to tell him to leave, not that it wasn't warranted. He was acting like a brat, giving her the cold shoulder and silent treatment. At least she wasn't seeming to play emotional games like Lisa had, instead understanding his need to retreat; even if she was making it clear she didn't like it. Probably because she had forced herself to give in to him, to lean on him when he knew her instincts were telling her to do the exact opposite. Damn it, why couldn't he do the same? He felt his frustration and anger growing, instead of quelling, like he so desperately wanted it to.

"No tricks, no games, Jeff. Promise. It is okay to need some alone time. When you figure out what is eating at you, and are willing to talk about it, you know where to find me." Her concern for him beat out her anger and frustration, she pulled herself back to sitting, placing her hand on his leg, "Or someone. At least promise me you'll talk to someone?"

Clarke nodded, letting out a puff of air. He wanted that someone to be her, but he wanted to not sound like a spoiled brat when he did so and neither of them were currently in the best of moods. Which was all his fault. He deserved to wallow alone.

"Yeah, Cal, I promise," he said finally. "I don't know where my head's at, but I shouldn't take it out on you." He forced himself to keep looking at her, even though he was awash with shame. He involuntarily reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear, incredibly relieved when she didn't duck from his touch. Emboldened, he cupped her face with his palm. "You might be too good for me, Cailin Callahan."

She let out a small laugh, "not in a million years, Jeff Clarke."

She gave him a sad smile that almost broke his heart. But not nearly as much as her words, "really, you need to go." She strode toward the door, physically driving home her statement.

Those weren't the words Cal wanted to say, she wanted to pull her to him, to make him talk it out, to banish his demons, to give him the comfort and peace he always claimed she did, to lie wrapped up with him in bed, letting the outside world fall away…but she couldn't. She couldn't let him shut down, to not reciprocate emotionally and reward that. No matter how much she yearned to.

"If that's what you want," Clarke said, rising, regretting the words as soon as he saw her eyes flash.

"Of course that isn't what I want," she said. "I wanted to have a nice night with you before getting my ass kicked this weekend at work. I wanted you to tell me what was going on in your head and heart. I wanted to be a sliver of the comfort you are to me, of what you say I am to you!" She cut off, forcing herself to reel herself in, closing her eyes and shaking and her head, filled with a deep sense of sadness. Keeping her eyes closed, with a shake of her head, "damn if I didn't have to fall in love with you."

Cailin opened her eyes, the blue glistening with tears Clarke knew she wouldn't let fall. It was enough for him to roughly pull her to him, ignoring her struggling, burying his face in the top of her head. "Please don't ever regret that, Cally," he half-begged. "I need you. I just need to get my head on straight."

"Damn right you do," she said into his chest.

Clarke laughed, though hollow; kissing her head, releasing her slightly but still keeping ahold of her arms. "I'm going to go, just know that might not always be an option." He gave her a look, smirking slightly as she puzzled through his statement, her mouth popping open before closing again as she looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Watch your six, babe, stay safe for me, okay?"

"Back at you, cowboy," she said, her hand on the door knob.

"Always," he said, giving her one long, firm kiss; breaking away as he felt her start to weaken against him. He knew he needed to go, to honor her earlier wish; that he didn't deserve her comfort that night. She had been clear, he wouldn't let her give in and feel weak about it later. "Sweet dreams, Callahan," he said, smiling down at her wistfully.

"See you around, Clarke," she replied, threading her fingers through his and giving them one last squeeze before nearly pushing him out the door and shutting it behind him.

* * *

Both Cally and Clarke spent the night tossing and turning, bemoaning the fact that they were not sleeping alone and blaming themselves for that fact. Both almost calling the other countless times, stubbornness stopping them short. Clarke eventually passed out, knowing his sleep would be punctured with nightmares; Cailin almost nodded off right as her phone started buzzing, dispatch's number flashing on the screen.

She arrived at the scene, knew from the amount of vehicles out front including news vans it was going to be bad. Belden's presence as soon as she stepped in the door proving her theory.

"Jesus, Callahan, forget you were on call? Figured a day off would mean you caught up on your beauty sleep," he remarked.

"Wouldn't want to compete with you, Princess," she shot back, her lack of sleep coupled with her sort of disagreement with Clarke meaning she didn't care about even trying with her boss anymore.

"What do we got?" she asked, snagging a uniform. She walked from room to room, the scene in the kitchen the worst. Cal shuddered at the sight of the two children dead on the kitchen floor, their mother a few feet away, collapsed on the body of the infant, shot point-blank in the not yet hardened skull. Yes, the young girls clad only in their underwear because their kingpin didn't trust them to not steal the product, girls who were probably being pimped out on the side, sprawled dead upstairs had been sad; but this collateral damage…she let out a long breath. Forcing herself to keep it together and to look professional as Commander Perry entered the house.

"What's the count?" he asked, looking at Cailin.

"Eight, sir," she replied, with a sad shake of her head, "three kids and their mother in the kitchen, dad and a known associate in the living room, two count girls upstairs. Tons of product and money still in the open, so looks like a hit or retaliation."

He nodded, turning to Belden, "I called the unit. No arguments. HQ is riding me about this. Our stats are bad enough without an all out cartel war happening in the city."

"Come on, Commander, Voight and his crew had let Munoz snake out their clutches how many times? You're just going to hand this over to them? Look at our stats compared to theirs, Callahan alone has cleared triple the cases in the past couple of months as his whole damn unit," Belden retorted, clapping Cailin on the back.

Cal stiffened, not sure how to react to Belden's words of praise but sure she didn't like being trotted out like a show pony. She let out a low growl, one that Perry couldn't hear, yet judging from the way he jerked his hand off of her, Belden did.

"Already done, learn to play together. Speaking of which, I've heard Callahan has done well on that front as well. I expect you can continue that?" Perry said, giving Cailin a look. She nodded, feeling like her job depended on it. "And this," he continued, gesturing around, "proved we are right to use Pulpo. Munoz is not making a power grab on my watch."


	37. Smoke and Mirrors

**Chapter 37: Smoke and Mirrors**

_Once again, y'all rock and I cannot thank you enough for all your reads, reviews and PMs. You keep me rolling despite having a million other things going on. I am playing with timelines again because I can and because I needed things to work for me! Also, like Cally, I wish my Spanish was better. Not a ton of Clarke in this chapter, but it is a needed set up. _

* * *

A ballistics connection to Munoz sealed Pulpo getting whatever he wanted. Something that left Cal seething, though not nearly as much as Antonio Dawson.

Being forced by Belden to get Pulpo's ridiculous list of demands the next day while posing as one of his 'lady friends' during visiting hours did little to improve Cailin's mood. Especially when Pulpo leered at her and reached for her across the table as he demanded conjugal visits. Thankfully a guard landed a quick blow to Pulpo's back before Cailin throttled their only bargaining chip.

"You better be glad I am not calling the shots, because you would be pulpo gallego, dude," she hissed as soon as the guard walked away. "Going after cops is one thing, but bringing our families in it, low blow. Just remember what goes around, comes around," she warned before storming off to meet with the warden.

She returned to the precinct, working the octuple homicides, even though she knew it was pointless. Clearly Munoz was behind it; he hadn't really tried to hide it, but the guy was in the wind. IU was chasing their own leads using lord only knew what tactics, leaving Belden in an even worse mood than normal. Which led to Cally facing off with her boss yet once again as he gave in to all of Pulpo's ludicrous requests.

"Seriously, Belden, every single one of them? You gonna bend over when they drop him off too? You know Voight is going to flip out, don't you? One of their team got killed because of him, he kidnapped Antonio's son!" she bellowed, not even bothering to close the door to his office, knowing the entire precinct could hear them either way.

"I don't give a crap how Voight reacts, Perry said we had to work together, I don't have to get his damn approval on anything. In case you forgot, I outrank him; you as well, you might want to keep that in mind before you suggest I am bending over for anyone, toots. If your stats weren't so good..." he trailed off, an administrative intern hovering behind them.

Cailin turned, snapping, "what?" at the skittish looking intern, who held out a sheaf of papers. "Transport clearance and paperwork, need Lieutenant Belden's signature." Cailin ripped them from his hand and threw them on Belden's desk, "it would be easier to just sign a 'get out of jail free' Monopoly card," she growled, tacking on, "sir," before storming out of the pen.

IU was empty, except for a pale looking Jin, pacing the floor and chewing on his fingernail. "Jesus, Jin, lay off the caffeine, maybe," she said when he jumped at her presence. "Everybody out trying to work leads?" she asked, getting only a nod from Jin. "Alright, I'll check back later."

Cailin felt nearly as jittery as Jin, trying to check in with Shay to see how things were going with Severide or Devon, but got no answer. Voice mail also greeted her when she tried to touch base with Matt to see when he was planning on popping the question. She didn't even bother with Gabby, terrified she would be interrupting the exact moment Matt proposed; even though he promised he would tell her first. She hesitated before calling Clarke, having exchanged only texts with him, not sure if he was in better head space and still feeling a little wounded that he had shut her out. But not talking wouldn't solve anything and until they actually got Pulpo to the precinct, it wasn't like she had anything else to do.

* * *

"Hey," came Clarke's voice, slightly gruff, causing Cal's heart to clench. Was he angry she had told him to leave? She tried to explain she wasn't playing games. Maybe she should have just let him stay, perhaps he would have come out with it eventually.

"Hey, yourself. Did I catch you at a bad time?" she asked, her tone far more timid than she would have liked.

Clarke shook his head, stepping off the running path. Catching the worry in her tone, wishing he was seeing her in person so he could smooth out what he was sure was a furrowed brow. "Just out for a run, Cally."

"Oh, I'll let you get back to it then," she replied, her heart still thudding.

"Not a chance, stranger. You kick me out and then the most I get from you is a few 'still alive, big case' texts? Taking every second I can, babe," he said, smiling into the phone.

Cailin let out a sigh. "I was trying to give you space, Jeff. I told you no games, I get it." She paused before admitting, "but I have missed you. So I thought I would call."

"Glad you did; though for the record, I don't ever need that much space from you, Callahan. And you were right, I was ticked about Newhouse. We both know 51 is family; 102 might get there, but I don't think it will ever be the same. Even with everything that happened when I first got on there, well, you know," he said with a hollow laugh. "Any chance I'll get to see those baby blues of yours anytime soon?" he asked softly.

Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach fluttered, feeling much like a schoolgirl with her first crush. She hoped the feeling would never entirely go away. "I don't know, case is heating up and Brass has us working with IU. You can guess how much my boss is enjoying that."

Clarke felt flooded with disappointment. He had barely slept since Friday night and only because he knew he had to keep on top of things at work. He couldn't risk the life of his men because of his stubbornness with Cal. He made himself to focus at work; but every minute not on that 24 was consumed with wanting to see her, hold her. Wanting to force himself to open up, force them both to finish some of their half-started life conversations. Yet he knew she also had to focus on her job. He needed her home safe, so he kept his disappointment out of his tone, saying instead, "I can only imagine. Try to not deck him, babe, another suspension is not how I want us to spend time together. Love you and stay safe."

"Love you too, cow-" she cut off as Belden passed by screaming, "stop shooting the breeze, prison transport is here, Callahan!"

* * *

She followed after Belden meeting up with IU and the prison transport van. She couldn't help but shiver as the guards removed Pulpo's face mask, something about the man gave her the creeps and she had seen some of the worst of the worst. She didn't trust him and she didn't trust Belden for giving in to his demands. Voight and Dawson voiced their dislike as well, but Belden stood firm.

"We do what we need to do to get Munoz, so how do we do that, Pulpo?" Belden said.

Cailin shook her head as Pulpo laid out the elaborate plan that of course put Antonio in the line of potential fire undercover. She shot the man a look, but he was willing to do anything to get Munoz and to get the man who kidnapped his son back in prison as quickly as possible. She looked at Voight, knowing Belden didn't give a damn, he didn't have a horse in this race other than keeping Perry happy. She wished her Spanish was better. Not that there was anyway for her to get in on this op, even with Halstead and Erin out running down other leads trying to discern Pulpo's reasoning for his demands and trying to get leverage.

Voight seemed to understand her unease, giving her a nod. "You sticking around?" he asked Belden, "babysitting is about your speed," he poked. Belden didn't respond, leaving Voight to look at Cally and say, "you stick around as well. Make sure he doesn't end up wiping his ass for him too, Callahan."

* * *

She spent what felt like an eternity, pacing in front of the cage that held Pulpo while Belden read some detective novel, which Cal found slightly ironic. She only literally rattled the cage three times before realizing Pulpo was getting his rocks off baiting her. "Screw off, Pulpo, or I'll actually take your gallbladder out with my bare hands, you piece of-" she started after he incessantly kept trying to bait her. It was at this point that IU came busting back in to the loading dock, revealing Pulpo had led them on a wild goose chase; setting them up so Munoz could kill two rival mobsters.

Cal wasn't sure who Voight and Dawson wanted to throttle more, Pulpo or Belden; both men saved from physical injury when Halstead and Erin came in, pulling them all aside and revealing Pulpo had a mistress and child, upstairs in interview. "Finally, a bargaining chip," Cailin muttered under her breath.

She went to follow them until Belden snapped, "did I say you could leave, Detective?" getting a cold laugh out of Pulpo along with "sit, stay, esa perra buena."

She waited, angrily, until the Intelligence Unit returned, with Pulpo's sweet thing in tow. Cailin could see the change in Pulpo's expression as Voight laid out what life would look like for Pulpo's son and baby mama if he didn't start cooperating. Frankly shocked he did have a heart underneath his psychopath exterior.

"Fine, I'll tell you how to get Munoz, just keep them out of this," Pulpo admitted, looking slightly defeated.

Voight and Dawson exchanged a look of disbelief, one Cally was sure was sure she had written on her face as well. Pulpo kept pleading, even after they led his girlfriend away. He seemed willing to do anything to see his son, the only advantage they had. "You better not be playing us this time," Voight warned, leaving little to the imagination for what he would do to Pulpo.

Pulpo told them about the festival, the big shot from New York that would be attending. Cally worked her jaw, giving Voight a nod behind Belden and Pulpo's back, recognizing the name of the player he brought up; it made sense the man would be Munoz's next target.

When the IU moved things upstairs to start to come up with a game plan for intercepting Munoz at the festival the next day, Voight motioned for Cally to follow. "She has intel, I need intel. You got a problem with that, talk to Perry," Voight said when Belden started to protest.

Cailin followed Voight into his office, giving him a concise but thorough account of Hereida and the connections between the New York and Chicago cartel's, at least from what she had seen working OCCB. She had been somewhat removed on the Chicago end, VC's working a wide-variety of crimes. He seemed pleased by her briefing. "I want in," she said as he dismissed her.

"Not happening," Voight replied, matter of fact.

Cailin resisted stomping her foot like a child. "I don't give it away for free, Voight. Come on. Read my jacket, I can handle a raid on a festival."

"I have read your jacket, Callahan and I am well aware of your abilities. But what I need from you is to try to keep Belden from giving it away for free," he smirked, "and you can only do that here. I already have one rat I am dealing with, I can't keep an eye on your boss too."

She was about to protest further when she heard Dawson go off out in the pen. "You think I am not reminded every time I look across at that empty desk, the one my partner used to sit at, who did that? She isn't there anymore because of Pulpo!" Voight and Cailin exchange a look as Voight said, "and I can only handle one hot head at a time. Get back downstairs, Callahan."

* * *

Cailin was finally sent home by Belden, standing her ground until he left as well. She hoped to catch up with Clarke; but he was sitting in on a poker game with some of the guys from truck 25 and she knew, given his reaction to Newhouse, he needed the bonding time. Maybe this mess with Munoz and Pulpo would be over by tomorrow and they could catch up Thursday after he got off shift.

She spent another night tossing and turning before finally giving in to the use of her prescriptions, knowing she had to keep a level head while baby-sitting Pulpo and Belden the next day. She would have preferred the calming influence of Jeff's presence, but she was willing to give that up if he was more at peace with the changes in his professional life. She vowed to make sure they included the gang from 51 into their plans as much as possible. Starting with Matt and Gabby and a dinner in Mount Greenwood.

* * *

She spent the entirety of the next day practically climbing the walls of the precinct, literally rattling Pulpo's cage on more than one occasion much to the chagrin of Belden.

"Can't you just sit, read a book or something, Callahan?" he asked, perched on his own chair with a book.

Cailin narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips, "if I wanted to spend my days babysitting little jerks, I would have stayed in Manhattan and become a nanny, the pay is better."

"Wish you would have," Belden muttered under his breath, though he did glare at Pulpo's snort.

"Seriously, Belden, why did you give in to everything he wanted? You got your eye on Perry's job or what?" she asked, pulling out a chair and slumping down into it.

Belden barely looked at her over the edge of her book. "Look, Callahan, I know you think I am just a Brass-hole, but I am perfectly happy with my job, would happily stay here until I retire. I would prefer to do it without you being a thorn in my side."

Cailin rolled her eyes, "yeah, sorry about messing up your stats by closing all those cases."

"Look, you and I both know you skate on a lot by being young and cute and female. You pulled half your crap if you were an old guy, you would have been bounced long ago. Unless of course you were in bed with IAD, paying them off like Voight is."

Cailin glared at Belden, not for his message, she had long assumed Voight was either dirty or playing a game; but that Belden was being so open in front of a prisoner. "Jesus Hopscotching Christ, Belden, anyone ever tell you loose lips sink ships? I'm going on a coffee run, try to not jerk Pulpo off while I'm gone." She stormed out, ignoring the commentary from Pulpo, that even with her contractor's Spanish she knew had a lot to do with the female anatomy and his debased fantasies.

She was pacing near the entryway to the precinct, ignoring Platt's glares and warnings; she must have seen on edge enough that even the older woman stopped bugging her. Which is how she heard Commander Perry's conversation with whom she could only infer was Voight. "Could you please explain to me, Sergeant, why shots had to be fired at all in the middle of a crowded space? What happened to IU handling it on the down low, about being good enough to not have to make a scene? Now I have HQ and the media vultures circling and it is not my ass that will be on the line!" Perry roared before hanging up the phone.

Cailin took it as her cue to hightail it back downstairs. "He actual was useful for something," she remarked once back downstairs, hitching a thumb at Pulpo still sitting in the cage.

'So I get to see Lina and Osberto? Pulpo asked, looking surprisingly desperate for a man who has murdered dozens of people in cold blood.

Belden shrugged, "a deal is a deal."

Cailin wanted to protest, but she had been through harder negotiations herself. "You want me to get prison transport back out here?"

"Yeah, though given the hour it probably won't happen until tomorrow."

"What about my boy?" Pulpo protested.

Cailin rolled her eyes, "calm down, Kraken. If Belden promised you something, he'll do it. One thing he is good at is making good with his threats, I mean, his word. You'll see your kid without plexi between you two."

As she suspected, the warden was short-staffed and couldn't spare any guards running into the city for transport until the day shift, so Pulpo got to cool his heels for another night in the cage and Belden sent her home, though this night seemed even longer, with both Clarke and her friends at 51 on shift, and staying busy if their lack of returned texts was any indication. She just hoped they were all staying safe.


	38. Draw Fire

**Chapter 38: Draw Fire**

_I left you with so much foreshadowing in the last chapter, it just happened to be in the wrong direction. So much drama, don't freak out! _

* * *

Cailin was starting to feel overly familiar with the loading dock and cage that IU had claimed as their own. She was also starting to have trouble not punching either Pulpo or Belden in the face spending day in and day out not being an actual cop with them.

Luckily, the transport van from the prison had just pulled up. Belden told her to go get Lina and Osberto from the interview room they were in. She complied, even though she knew it was more a boot's job. She knew a few days of togetherness had put her on even thinner ice with her boss; and despite Voight using her for intel, she was pretty sure she was stuck with VC for the long haul. She shook her head, trying to not feel trapped, giving a curt nod to the uniform at the door to the interview room.

"You ready?" she asked, looking at Lina and clenching her jaw so she didn't interrogate the woman on her choice of breeding partners. It wasn't her place. Except something about the scared little boy at his mother's side made every last fiber of maternal instinct start to buzz. "He doesn't have to-" Cailin started to say.

"It is his father," Lina hissed at her, "he is going back to prison," she practically spat.

Cailin forced herself to take a deep breath, gesturing for the pair to follow her as she thought of Clarke's words about another suspension.

* * *

She wasn't sure why she was surprised to see Antonio downstairs as she ushered Lina and Osberto below, other than she would have thought Voight might have given his team the day or at least the morning off after taking down two assassins the evening before. Though knowing Perry, he probably wanted the paperwork on his desk before 10am. She gave the elder Dawson a nod, standing to the right of the pair of visitors for Pulpo.

"Come on, let's make this quick," Antonio said, nodding for the prison transport guard to take Pulpo out of the cage. Cailin couldn't agree more. If they wrapped this up quick enough, she might be able to meet Clarke for breakfast, assuming he wasn't exhausted. She shoved those thoughts from her mind as she watched Lina push a very hesitant Osberto towards his father's waiting embrace. Cal had to wonder how well the kid even knew his father, the little boy stiffening as the man's arms went around him; neither looking at him nor returning the hug. She narrowed her eyes at Lina, her anger mounting, growing exponentially as Pulpo leered at up toward Belden and Dawson and said, "there's nothing like being a father, is there, Antonio?"

She wondered if this was all part of some sociopathic game. She didn't have time to wonder long, Pulpo releasing his son, Lina immediately going to take his place. Osberto immediately retreated, back towards Cailin. Much like her nephews and nieces, he moved close to her, looking up at her with wide eyes. She wasn't sure if it was because she was the shortest person in the room or if she just gave off some sort of vibe, but children always seemed to gravitate toward her like she was a life-size doll. Outside her family, it usually annoyed her, but there was something about this kid.

She dropped down to a crouch, putting herself on eye-level with the five-year old. "You okay, little man?" she asked, unsure of what else to say. He gave her a hesitant nod. She reached in her pocket for a quarter, doing the old pulling a quarter from your ear trick, barely registering Pulpo's ministrations to Lina and Antonio trying to hurry the reunion along. Osberto reacted to the quarter like she was a good witch, throwing his arms around her neck with a smile. "It's just a quarter, kid," she said, even as she found herself melting slightly at his unabashed affection and puppy-like excitement.

Which is why when the first two shots rang out, she didn't reach for her gun like her training told her to do. Her body instead instinctively curled around Osberto, protecting him from the immediate threat. It took her a moment to realize what was happening and she only registered that Pulpo was the one doing the shooting because Lina was trying to rip her son from Cailin's arms. However, pure terror made the little boy's arms clamp down around Cally's neck and he was shaking so badly that Lina couldn't get a good grip. This prevented Cailin from even being able to unholster her weapon as she spied Belden on the ground in front of her, a blood pool already forming around his body. She fought back flashbacks to that day on Long Island as Lina almost pulled her down trying to wrench the terrified little boy from her arms. The struggle dislodged Cailin's gun from her holster, though she was the only one who noticed it, watching in horror as it slid across the concrete floor and underneath the small flight of stairs.

Pulpo was yelling at Lina in Spanish, taking down the two transport guards as he did so. Cailin had lost sight of Antonio, Lina between her and the roll-up door Pulpo was making his way towards. Judging by the extra gunshot, she had a pretty good idea who the target was. It was her turn to try to get the boy off of her, worried about her fellow fallen officers. Training beating out maternal instincts, but Osberto wouldn't budge. Lina screamed at her child, causing him only to burrow his face further into Cailin and for Pulpo to scream his own command at Lina. Cailin almost lost her footing in the pool of blood coming from Belden's body, her stomach and heart both lurching at the sight, the familiar buzzing starting in her ears as waves of anxiety started rising. Not now, she couldn't have a panic attack now; not with a little boy in danger from his psychotic parents, who were shooting their way out of a police station. Speaking of which, where the hell was everyone?

She fought off the anxiety, though it was replaced with pure terror as she felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against her temple, could feel Pulpo's breath on her face as he said, "let go of my son."

Cailin immediately complied, putting her hands up in surrender, hoping to negotiate long enough for someone to get downstairs. But Osberto remained wrapped around her body like a life-preserver and she felt herself being dragged by Pulpo out on the sidewalk, the gun still snug against her head. Lina worked to rip Osberto off of her, as Cailin went to wrap her arms around the child once more.

Her mind filled and emptied simultaneously. Every scene she had been called out to, every op that went sideways, that day in that green tiled room watching Doyle bleed out, all ran through her mind like a horror movie. Though a loop of raucous family dinners, learning to fish with her brothers and Matt on the lake, getting caught in that thunderstorm with Jimmy, the crew at 51, Jeff's eyes full of hope, his arms holding her, played simultaneously; beating out the horrors. Cailin was sure these were her last seconds on earth. Damn it, not like this, she wasn't ready to go out like this. Not after finding happiness again, not after thinking she had a future with Jeff.

Being pulled back by Pulpo and to the side by Lina trying to get her son knocked Cailin off-balance enough that she went down; forcing herself to try fall back and to the side to cushion the boy as much as she could. Her head hit the concrete with a sickening crack, echoed as Pulpo discharged the weapon; the searing pain in her head forgotten about as her thigh felt like it was on fire. At least Pulpo was concerned enough to worry about hitting his son that he hadn't taken a higher shot at her; though Cailin knew that safety net would soon be gone. Something proven when Lina yanked Osberto from her arms.

Pulpo stood over her, the gun aimed directly at her. He narrowed his eyes, looking down at her. "Seria una madre buena, que pena," he said with a sadistic smile, squeezing the trigger. Cailin's primal reflexes kicked into high gear, forcing herself to roll away right as the shot rang out. Her movement, coupled with Lina pulling Pulpo away, caused the bullet to miss the intended target of her head. Instead it ricocheted off the asphalt below her before it tore a path through her upper shoulder.

Despite desperately fighting to stay above it, the darkness clamped down on Cailin, pulling her under as she heard the familiar voices of the Intelligence Unit come echoing from the bay.

* * *

She came to in an ambo, though it wasn't Shay or Dawson working on her. The brunette with the kind eyes and bobbed haircut did seem slightly familiar, Raffia or something...

"Entrance wound, outer aspect medial side of thigh, swollen but not tight. No active bleeding. Strong femoral pulse, ditto on distal. Not seeing an exit wound. Stopped bleeding by packing on her upper trap. She's got a hell of a goose egg, probably a concussion, but she's hypertensive with an elevated heart rate. Detective can you tell me your name?"

"Cailin," she said, shutting her eyes as soon as she opened them, the lights blinding her and making her already pounding head ache worse. She felt like she had been hit by a truck. No, she realized, just shot. Twice. "'Tonio, Belden," she said, trying to bolt upright, until the waves of nausea and the paramedic shoved her back down on the gurney. She couldn't tell if the ringing in her ears was real, the onset of panic attack or from her head meeting the concrete, but it was enough to pull her under again.

She came to again, emptying the acrid contents of her stomach over the side of the bed, much to the chagrin of the nurse at her bedside checking her vitals, her name badge reading Taylor Williams. "Good morning to you too, Detective Callahan," she said, stepping over the puddle and shaking her hand off. "Do you know where you are?"

"With my luck, probably Lakeshore," Cailin groaned, realizing her arm was in a sling and immobile.

Taylor laughed, "actually you are at Chicago Med, but you got hospital right, so I'll give it to you. How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Where's Antonio or Belden or the guards? Did they get Pulpo?" Cailin asked, her eyes wide with panic.

"Fingers," Taylor demanded.

"3, 5, 2," Cailin said, complying, following along with Taylor's changing fingers despite wanting to jump out of the hospital bed. Stopping only because her leg felt like it was still on fire. She realized now she was in a hospital gown, her entire thigh bandaged and her left arm was in a sling.

Taylor followed her gaze, giving Cailin a curt nod. "Bullet lodged in the soft tissues of your upper lat, didn't fracture the bone but you do have a nice interosseous bruise on your femur. Managed to not hit any arteries. You'll be on crutches for a while and the doc decided to leave a little souvenir inside you, so you'll be setting off metal detectors for the rest of your life. Also managed to not hit anything major on your trap either, though it did take out a nice hunk and will hurt like a bitch. Lots of nerve fibers bundled through there."

"What about the other officers?" Cailin pleaded, looking at her desperately.

"They only brought in one other detective, latino guy, something with a D," Taylor replied, listening to the page coming in for her over the intercom.

"Dawson, Antonio Dawson?" Cailin asked, feeling a tiny stirring of hope.

She nodded, "sounds about right. You up for visitors? You and that other cop seem to have attracted half the police and fire departments."

Cailin tried to nod, though her head quickly told her to stop the movement. "Yeah, I think so."

* * *

Cailin wanted to change her response to 'definitely, yes', when her first visitor stepped through the door, clad in his navy pants, black boots and quilted FD jacket; clearly having come straight from shift. "Jeff," she said, trying to force a smile as soon as she saw him, though pain coursed through her body as she did so.

"Cailin," he said, his tone a mix of relief and worry as he practically ran to her bedside, stopped only by the rail on the bed as he examining her injuries. "I would hug you, but I'm not sure how to," he said, giving her a wistful smile. He worked to stamp down the panic that had gripped him since the phone call from Casey.

"Avoid the left shoulder, right thigh and my head and you'll be fine; oh wait, I see what you mean," she cracked back, the pain meds finally starting to take the edge off. "How did you know?"

"Matt called me. I was actually on my way to the precinct to see if I could steal you away for breakfast."

Cally's eyebrows knitted together as she tried to work her way though the haze. "Matt, Casey?"

Clarke nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting; reaching for her right hand, careful to not jostle her leg. "Yeah. Apparently a call ran late and the truck ended up taking Gabby to her re-test. Boden heard about the precinct shooting over the scanner and had them bring Gabby over here."

"Antonio?" she asked, not knowing if she wanted the answer, not wanting the small flame of hope extinguished.

He gave her a slight nod. "He's out of surgery and in ICU. Took a pretty good hit to his chest, but it missed his heart. They still might have to do more surgeries, but they are optimistic." He hesitated.

Cailin picked up on it. "Belden, the guards?"

He shook his head, "I'm sorry, Cal."

"Fuck. What about Pulpo?" she said, struggling to sit further upright.

Clarke reached out to help her; moving her bed up, knowing she wouldn't just lie still. "State wide manhunt, he's plastered all over the news. The chick and kid too."

Cailin froze, the kid, the kid had saved her life. What the hell was it that Pulpo said to her before he tried to kill her? Something about a good mother?

"Cally, what is it? Do you need more pain meds, I'm pretty sure your sheets are darker than you." Clarke was trying to keep his tone light, but she really had just gone paler and was visibly shaking.

"That damn kid saved my life, Jeff. Otherwise I would have ended up like Belden and those guards," she said, shock settling over her.

Clarke, squeezed her hand, leaning carefully over to kiss her lightly and carefully on her lips. "Remind me to thank the kid then, before I lay out his good for nothing father when they find them, because I am glad he did. Now how about you settle back and try to get some rest?" he suggested before settling back in the chair.

Cailin started to nod before catching sight of Helling in the doorway. "Helling," she said, looking at him curiously.

"You need debriefing, Callahan," he said, his voice clipped.

"Now?" Clarke asked, incredulous. "You do know she got shot, right?"

"So did four other officers, Lieutenant," he sneered, taking in Clarke's jacket, disrespect clear in his tone.

"Jeff, please. He's right, the sooner the better. I'm fine, promise," she said, looking at him pleadingly.

He worked his jaw as if debating, but finally rose from his chair and strode toward the door. "Fine, but don't push her too hard," he warned.

"Just go check Antonio for me," Cally requested, knowing it was the only way he wouldn't be hovering in the doorway the entire time.

* * *

Helling sneered at her after she walked him through the first time. "So how is it you didn't see her hand a gun off to him?"

"I told you, the son distracted me. I didn't think to frisk Lina since she had been in our custody for how long?" Cailin retorted.

"I just find it very convenient you happened to be holding Pulpo's son right as he opened fire; that he used you as a shield instead of just shooting you in the head," Helling replied, narrowing his eyes at her in suspicion.

Cailin felt her eyes go wide, struggled to get the rail on the bed down with only one good arm. "You say that like you wished he had! Do you want me to apologize for being alive?"

Helling worked his jaw, "I'm just saying a good cop died because you-"

Helling didn't get to finish his sentence as Clarke's fist met his jaw with a sickening crack. He hadn't moved from the doorway of Cal's room, despite her request to check on Antonio. The look of blame clear in the detective's eyes as soon as he entered the hospital room. Clarke knew it should be someone from IAD questioning her and didn't trust Helling. The man had just proven his instincts correct.

Burgess and Atwater were in the room immediately, getting in between the two men, Helling rubbing his jaw and pointing at Atwater, "you, cuff him for assaulting a police officer. I don't give a crap about his being CFD, excuse me, Lieutenant Hydrant-Humper."

Cailin could tell it was taking Clarke every bit if self-control to not go after Helling, even with the wall that was Atwater between them.

"Jeff, don't, he's not worth it," Cailin pleaded, trying to unhook herself from the bevy of machines, looking at Burgess in panic.

"Technically, sir," the younger woman said, "you aren't wearing your badge," she pointed out, "so we would have to bring you both in." Burgess' tone was a lot more authoritarian than her expression, but Cailin still gave her a grateful look.

"Voight's damn minions are everywhere, aren't they?" Helling snapped before glaring at Cailin, "don't think for one second if you even can come back to work that it will be in Violent Crimes, Callahan, because I will make sure that does not happen."

He stormed out right as Taylor came back in to see what all the commotion was about. "I think Detective Callahan could use her rest," the nurse remarked, giving the remaining trio a look of warning.

Atwater and Burgess quickly retreated, though Cailin reached out to grab Clarke's shirt. "Wait," she demanded, "just give us a second." Taylor made a one minute motion before exiting.

"You got a mean right hook, cowboy," she said, something between a grimace and a smile on her face at her reaching motion.

Clarke looked down at his already swelling knuckles, "he deserved worse," he replied, clenching his jaw.

"Probably, but he is still a cop, Jeff. Belden was not just his boss, they were friends, you can't blame him-"

"No, he can't blame you, Cal, you got shot too! Just because you aren't in the morgue doesn't mean it is somehow your fault."

"I know that," she said, looking up at him, "is there any new word on Antonio? How is Gabby holding up? Can you go check for real this time? Don't let Matt freak out about me. He has to be strong for Gabs. And don't let him call my family!"

She said all this while cradling her injured shoulder; a bird with a broken wing, still worried about her flock. He wanted to pull her into his lap, but the machines, as well as not wanting to cause her more pain, stopped him. "I'll wheel your bed down do see Antonio myself as soon as you can, babe, promise. As for the rest, I'll handle it; just rest up."

"Fine, just promise me you aren't going to deck anyone else." Her expression was teasing, but her eyes had a glint of worry in them.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead replying with, "I won't, only because I'm sure IU will do a lot worse to Pulpo when they track him down."

* * *

_Super shout out and props to Ms Isabella for letting me borrow her amazing OC, Taylor Williams from her Joe Cruz stories. I stuck her in the ER instead of with UCAN, because I didn't want Cally hurt bad enough to need life flight! _


	39. Fire Extinguished

**Chapter 39 Fire Extinguished**

_A/S: So you know the old saying 'bad things happen in threes'? Yeah, well, I'm sort of keeping to that. Sad stuff ahead, but I can promise you this story has a happy ending for Cally and Clarke. I should know, I just wrote it. The final chapter count of this installment is 44, for those of you keeping score at home. _

* * *

Cailin came to, another nurse prodding her; taking her vitals ensuring she didn't sleep too long given her concussion. She realized it was Matt sitting at her bedside. "Matt," she croaked, "shouldn't you be with Gabby?" She coughed, her throat raw and dry, grateful for the ice water the nurse handed her.

"Seriously, Cal? You think I am going to sit out there reading decades old _Sports Illustrated's _while my first friend lies in a hospital bed after getting shot?" Matt looked at her incredulously.

She pushed the button to raise her bed, grimacing in pain as she replied, "yeah, when your girlfriend's brother is lying in ICU, I imagine you would be."

"Good thing he is not still in ICU, huh? He's just a couple of doors down. Gabby is fine, she is with Laura, the kids and Laura's parents. Not calling their own parents, which apparently is something going around the CPD," he said with a smirk.

"Please tell me you did not call my family, Matty," she snapped.

He rolled his eyes at her, "I didn't. I know better that to tick you off after you've been shot."

"Where's Jeff and when the hell can I get out of here?" she said, trying to peer out of the doorway.

Matt laughed, her ire telling him she would be just fine, as long as she actually followed doctor's orders. "I sent him home to shower and catch some sleep, knew you would kick my ass if I didn't make sure he took care of himself. As for getting out of here, you got shot, twice, Cally and you have a concussion. Between that and your history, they want to keep you in for observation for couple of days."

"And just how do they know about my history?" His sheepish silence told Cailin everything she needed to know. "That was almost two years ago, Matt! I didn't need a blood transfusion now, my ribs and lungs are fine and you of all people know how hard-headed I am!"

"I'll give you that, but tough cookies on the rest, Cal. Besides, if I didn't tell them, Clarke would have. We just want you healthy, that's not such a bad thing, is it?"

Cailin wrinkled her nose, finally saying, "no, it isn't; except I would rather be out there trying to get the asshole that shot me and Antonio and killed my boss!"

"I promise you they will find Pulpo. The entire city is looking for him, not to mention Voight has probably thrown all protocol out the window." Matt's voice took a hard edge.

Cailin knew he had gotten the wrong end of Voight's alternative policing procedures, though in this instance she was all for them. "I know there is a lot of bad blood between you and Voight, Matt. I don't blame you for any ill will, but Pulpo is a rapid dog and needs putt down."

Matt could see the anger coursing through her veins, one of her monitors starting to beep as her heart rate and blood pressure increased. "I should go. Let you get more rest," he said, giving her left leg a gentle squeeze before turning to walk out.

* * *

The rest of the day and night passed with Cailin napping in no more than two-hour stretches, pain medications being delivered alongside antibiotics by the same nurses who checked her dressings and prodded her awake. She was vaguely aware of a parade of visitors. Gabby stopping by more than once, relief at her brother out of ICU clear on her face. Shay and Severide stopped by, seeming to have struck some sort of truce, teasing each other and her. Hermann even came by, his wife having sent him with several gossip magazines. Burgess also stopped by, filling her in on what she had heard about the hunt for Pulpo. Cailin got better information from Erin when she came by later with Jay, though the former Army man seemed hesitant to talk.

Clarke came back, showered and changed, but didn't look like he had slept much. "Jeff, I'll be fine. If it wasn't for this stupid concussion, they probably would have let me out already. Go home, sleep in a real bed," she protested.

He shook his head, settling into the chair at her bedside, daring the nurses to try to make him leave. He was damn sure his heart had stopped when he answered that call from Casey; informing him that there had been a shooting at the 2-1, that Cailin was somehow involved and to get over to the Med Center ASAP. Clarke broke every traffic law traversing the city, knowing that Chicago Med was the best GSW hospital in the city; them bringing Cally there meant she had been shot, otherwise Lakeshore was closer. He forced himself to remain optimistic, the universe wouldn't be so cruel that it would take Cal from him so quickly. Would it? She had been in the OR when he got there; arriving on the heels of truck 81, his brain not even registering the oddity until Casey filled him in.

At first they refused to let him back to see her, he had almost exploded on a doctor until Casey convinced them to let him back. By that point his optimism had fizzled and panic had his heart in a vice. He loved her, more than he had loved anyone, more than he even knew he could. It was beyond their connection, their shared experiences, the peace she brought him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Cailin; to build a life with her, the life he always wanted. She was fine, that was all there was to it.

Clarke would never be able to describe the relief he felt seeing her, pale and battered in that bed; forcing himself to sound upbeat as he stuffed his fears of losing her deep down. He had gone home only after Casey badgered him, pointing out how upset Cal would be if he didn't comply. He tried to sleep, tossing and turning for hours before finally giving up and heading back to the hospital. He hadn't been able to really sleep since the night she made him leave. He vowed for neither of them to ever leave for shift with things left stormy between them. "I'm not leaving your side, Cally, end of story."

* * *

And he didn't, except to step out when others came by and to sneak in a latte after she threatened bodily harm to a nurse around hour 39 of her 48 hours of observation. "You know even crazy people only get held for 72 hours," she snapped at Taylor, coming to do a status exam on her.

"We are just taking precautions, Detective. Now please stop arguing before I have to point out that visiting hours are over," she replied, looking pointedly at Clarke who was sitting in the chair trying to not look bemused.

Clarke returned with the latte and Jay Halstead. Cailin looked quizzically from man to man, wondering why Jeff had brought Jay into her room. "I just came from telling 'Tonio. Figured you should know too. We got him," Jay said, sounding relieved, but not triumphant.

There was something in his eyes that told Cally he was troubled. She slid her eyes over to study Clarke, realizing how both men held themselves the same way, the same way Jimmy had. Military training never really ever leaving them. Like their code: honor, justice, fidelity. She gave a nod, understanding. "Voight wants to fit him for concrete shoes, you want the courts to handle it," she said, nearly penetrating him with her gaze.

He jumped slightly at her astuteness, causing Clarke to let out a small laugh, "welcome to my world, she's scary good at that."

"You can't blame Voight," she said, seeing Jay stiffen and holding up her good palm, "I'm not condoning it, I just understand. Antonio thinks the courts should handle it too, doesn't he?" Jay nodded. "They probably should. I just might wait a little while before I called the Marshals to come and pick him up, that's all." She gave a shrug, instantly regretting it. She grimaced, covering it with a smile and saying, "thanks for getting the bastard, Halstead, and for being a stand up kind of guy."

* * *

Cailin was waiting on being discharged, chomping at the bit for every second over 48 hours she was in the hospital. "I just don't understand, my stats are fine, my status exams are fine; they keep claiming they are busy, you would think they would want the damn bed. How hard is it to find a wheelchair? Which I still think is ridiculous, by the way. I am not a moron, I get that staying off my leg means not putting any weight on it. Why can't I just have crutches?" she ranted, swinging her uninjured leg as she sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in the clothes Gabby had brought her. Cailin wasn't sure where anything of hers was, other than her badge, She hadn't been returned anything from when she was brought in.

"If you don't calm down, you're going to spike your stats again and they won't let you leave, babe," Clarke warned, standing at her bedside, smirking at her. He would be eternally grateful to the scheduling gods that had made sure this was his shift off; allowing him not only the time to stay with Cailin, but also the next three days of getting her settled in and following doctor's orders. He knew it would be an uphill battle, but he was more than willing to take it on. He would have suggested she come back to his place, but it wasn't ADA compliant and Gabby's place was.

"Fine," she huffed petulantly, crossing her arms over her chest. "But I still think it is dumb."

Clarke shook his head, bending down to kiss the top of hers, before sitting carefully down beside her, hoping to not jostle either side of her body. "Dumb or not, you know I'm going to make you follow whatever directions they give you, right? I can't lose my jogging buddy."

He smiled at her so wistfully, his eyes full of concern, that Cailin couldn't help but melt a little. She reached up with her non-injured arm to press her hand against his jaw line, "can't have that, now can we cowboy?" she said, leaning in and giving him a light kiss.

Clarke looked like he was about to say something when Colin Callahan came busting into the room, looking like he had just gotten off shift. "Cally," he said, "there you are!"

"Did Matt call you?" Cailin said, her hackles rising. "Because I damn well told him not to. I am fine, I would be out already if it wasn't for these damn incompetents who can't find a wheel-"

"Cailin, stop!" Colin protested, looking at her in such a way that she immediately went quiet.

Instinctively Clarke reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers as Colin spoke. "You're phone kept going to voice mail and the precinct was useless. Finally, I called Matt. It's Pops, Cal, he's over at Lakeshore, he had a stroke early this morning. It doesn't look good."

Cailin's mouth dropped open as Clarke squeezed her hand. He knew this was something she had worried about, her father on rapid decline. He cleared his throat, "I'm going to go see about moving her discharge along."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Colin said, putting his hand out to shake Clarke's. "Good to see you again, thanks for keeping an eye on this one when she forgets to call her family." Colin gave his baby sister the side eye as Cailin tried to puzzle through the 'see you again' statement her brother had just made.

"Wish it was under better circumstances," Clarke replied, giving the other man a nod before walking out toward the nurses' station.

"How not good, Col?" Cailin asked, biting her lip.

Colin didn't reply, just shook his head. Cailin closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had been preparing herself for this, maybe from the day she returned home; seeing her father sink so quickly into his disease. It still didn't make it any easier. "Damn. How's Ma? Wait, that's a stupid question. Is everyone else already at Lakeshore?"

Her brother nodded, "by now, yes." He looked her up and down, "why didn't you have anyone call us, Cally?"

She could clearly hear the unspoken "again". "I didn't want to worry anyone, I am fine. No broken bones, just a couple of flesh wounds and you know what Monty Python says about those."

"48 hours in the hospital for a couple of flesh wounds?" he pressed.

"And a concussion. Plus they were worried given my history," she admitted, unable to lie to her second eldest brother, he being the one that never judged you.

"I'm just glad you're safe, alive," he said, pulling her into a hug, trying to be careful of her arm.

"Here you go," Clarke announced, wheeling a chair into the room. He looked at Colin, "do you want to go ahead? Cal has to sign some paperwork, but then I can get her over to Lakeshore."

"You sure?" Colin asked, looking at Cailin, who merely nodded, trying to not make a face as Clarke helped her into the wheelchair. She had refused her pain meds the last two times the nurses had some in, not wanting to feel like the zombie she had two years ago. She was beginning to think that was not the wisest of decisions.

* * *

Cailin knew the second she exited the elevator that she was too late. The rest of the Callahan clan, including several extended members from that and the Sullivan side, filling the waiting area of Lakeshore to capacity. It was actually the boisterous noise that let her know her father had already passed. The Irish wake commencing, despite its locale. Clarke look slightly bewildered, trying to discern the situation. "I've got it from here, Jeff. You can go, I am sure you don't want the first time meeting the rest of my family after my father just died. Unless you've secretly met them all too," she said, gently informing him she had caught on to her brother's antics.

Clarke took a moment to process her information, seemingly incongruent with the almost festive atmosphere. He leaned over to land a kiss on her forehead, "not leaving your side, Cal, even if you tell me to." He wheeled her straight to the woman who could only be her mother, the coloring and stature the same; though Cal's facial features were much more similar to her brothers' and father's. The woman was smiling even as tears fell down her face, being embraced by a line of people.

"Before you freak out, I am fine, Ma," Cailin said by way of greeting, before her mother even realized her daughter was in a wheelchair.

"Oh dear Lord, what trouble have you gotten into this time? I really would have thought you'd grown out of that daredevil stuff by now, Cailin Marie," she admonished, taking in her daughter's arm in a sling and bandaged leg.

Cal couldn't help but smile, "wasn't actually my fault this time, Ma, I just got shot a couple of times."

This caused her mother to clutch as her shirt and those closest to them to go silent. "I'm fine," Cailin protest as her other made the sign of the cross and pulled out her rosary beads, muttering, "please, Lord, you can't take two of them from me on the same day, that's more than I can-"

"Ma, I am fine, put the beads away unless you are saying them for Pops, okay? Thanks for briefing them, Colin," she said, shooting her brother a look.

Clarke decided to intervene, "Mrs. Callahan? Jeff Clarke. Sorry for your loss. Deputy Commissioner Callahan was a great man, he will be missed." He gently shook her hand, giving a slight bow of respect.

"Did you work with my husband?" she asked, studying the man closely.

Colin let out a snort, "this is Cally's jarhead, Ma, the one Connor was checking up on."

"What do you mean checking up on?" Cailin said, before recalling the sad task at hand. "Never mind, he can tell me himself when he wheels me in to see Pops, unless they've already…" she trailed off, unable to ask if they had taken her father's body down to the morgue yet.

Thankfully, Connor was already behind her, wheeling her down the hall.


End file.
